


Bloody Bored

by islandgirl_246



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha Scott McCall, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Peter Hale is a Little Shit, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:44:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandgirl_246/pseuds/islandgirl_246
Summary: Stiles and Peter return to Beacon Hills at the behest of the Sheriff, Stiles’ dad, to help out with a little situation. Things were good, quiet at home and Stiles was getting just a tad bit bored and welcomed something to do, even if it meant going back to Beacon Hills. But then what was intended to be a simple in and out, turns into something a little bit more complicated and now involves two counties and his former pack. And nothing is more complicated or dangerous than when Stiles gets bored.**I’m putting this out here as a special thank you to Silvertemper and revolution_starter, who have been especially awesome to me with the encouragement and advice in some tough times with my past fics. Thank you both.**





	1. Nothing Good Ever Comes From Messing With A Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [revolution_starter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolution_starter/gifts), [Silvertemper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvertemper/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Where all good fics go to die](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7164719) by [TheCarrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot). 



> So a little background before we get started. I borrowed the idea for this fic and part of the first chapter (up to where Peter enters) from TheCarrot who gave permission for me to use it. I happened across a series of one-shots a while ago and absolutely fell in love with this one. The original prompt was from Foolish Nana – “Well that was unexpected.” I kept a big chunk of the first part pretty close to the original chapter by TheCarrot, though changing a few things. So I’m going to attempt to turn it into a full fic.

Only an idiot would make the same mistake twice. _That’s what this man was. For sure! He had to be . . . an idiot_ , because there was no way a person with any kind of supernatural inclination could try the exact same approach twice and expect a different result the second time. _Did he mention that it was the exact same thing? Like down to the chief ‘bad-guy’ and the kidnapping shtick?_

The first time Stiles had let it go, with a warning yes, but nevertheless, he’d let it go. He’d said no, and that was all there was to it. Case closed! Finito! Заканчивать! Claro?  . . . _Or not, clearly . . . because here he was, again!_

As he listened he clearly heard Allison’s voice, asking the witches what the hell they were doing and furthermore why, as scratching and snarling sounds grew louder, and Scott shouted an alarm to Derek to watch his feet. Then came the rattle of a chain and the snarling intensified. And that, _gosh darn it,_ peaked Stiles’ curiosity. After 22 years he still couldn’t resist a puzzle.

The male witch said something about the pack’s Spark being dead, which reaaaaally got Scott going, because hello, Stiles is very much alive. He ran a hand over himself standing there in the dark outside the warehouse to verify. _Yup, all parts (including the family jewels) intact – soooo very much alive. Thank you very much._ Besides, he was no longer _their Spark!_

He considered his options, and bent to the first little plant his eyes saw with a number of leaves on it. Tapping each leaf in turn, _I’ll do it, I won’t do it, I’ll do it, I . . ._ and so on, until all the leaves were accounted for. _Shit, this meant he was going to have to save them wasn’t he? Oh Lord, Peter was going to be annoyed, again._ But it was his own damn fault. So with a thought Stiles swung open the massive doors and strode in. Maybe he could do this like Denzel Washington in **_The Equalizer_** in 20 seconds. _Yeah, that’d be hot._ He glanced at his wrist. _Damn, he wasn’t even wearing a watch. Well there went that idea._

The witch was standing in front of the pack. There was a feral omega chained to the floor that was currently very anxious to use Derek for kibble. _Well that accounted for the noises._ And beside Derek, Scott, Allison and Lydia were also chained to the floor. In the case of Lydia and Allison, with a few bruises to show for the trouble. A look at the bloody chaffing told Stiles there was wolfsbane in the chains. _Made sense, actually. Maybe the witch wasn’t an idiot. Maybe he was just incompetent._

Then the man grinned at him, tossing a pointed thumb in his direction, as the other two witches watched him warily. The man then crossed his arms, still grinning and said bald-facedly, “I heard you were dead. We’ve been searching for you for almost a year. Where the hell have you been?”

_And how the hell did any of that make sense? They thought he was dead but had been still searching for him since their last encounter? Ok, so opinion revised, definitely an idiot._

“Stiles?!” It was Scott’s hurt and bewildered voice, that with those puppy dog eyes could once upon a time get Stiles to do just about anything. But that was once upon a time. Those kinds of fairytales no longer existed.

Stiles ignored him and kept on walking into the room. “Well, Voila! Alive and well. And I believe last time we met I told you I wasn’t interested and I also believe last time I told you it wouldn’t be in your interest to go after people I knew again. I thought I was clear. I mean I was speaking English at the time, at least I think I was.” He glanced behind him before he remembered. “Dammit, he’s not here or I’d ask him. I’m sure it was English, but I apologise if I by chance lapsed into one of the other languages. Happens when I get upset or anxious or ‘overly emotional’,” he said using finger quotes. “At least that’s what my therapist says, but she’s a quack so who knows . . . but don’t tell her I said that.” He paused, blushed a little and rolled his eyes upward. “I digress.”

He glanced around the room, taking in everything. “Like I said, I thought we came to an understanding. To my recollection you nodded to indicate you understood last time, so everything that happens to you is your fault for lying.” Stiles had continued moving forward, long coat swaying, scarf wrapped around his neck to keep him warm – _Beacon Hills at this time of year was murder on the skin_ – so Scott’s shout, when it came echoed and startled the three witches.

“Stiles, watch out!”

He was close enough for the snapping, snarling Omega to rush at him. He stared at the poor creature, which stopped its antics for a while to stare back. The power in the room amped up to a sizzle, and then the Omega was pulling, trying to get to him while whimpering pitifully. He walked up to the animal, laid a hand on its head and sighed. With a brush of his hand the animal’s chains fell off and he changed back into his human form.

“Sleep. I’ll make sure you’re ok.” And like if he was cat-nip for wolves, the omega rubbed against his hand, all but purring, and promptly rolled over asleep.

Still ignoring the pack, he returned cold, whiskey-coloured eyes to the main witch among the three. “I told you to leave me alone. To go away and not return. What part of that was code for imprison my friends and try to torture them?”

Now that shook Derek’s mind. _Their being held hostage had something to do with Stiles? But that made no sense._ He glanced at the youth with interested, even if annoyed, eyes. _He’d no doubt gone and got himself in some kind of trouble again. After these past couple years had nothing changed?_

“Our leader wants you in our coven, and what he wants he gets. He wants you, Red Wolf, and it’s only a matter of time,” the older woman who was farthest back in the room said.

“Don’t make us hurt your little friends. Come willingly and we’ll let them go.” One of the witches, a brown haired peaky looking, malnourished chit in too dark lipstick, sneered at him. _That really was not a good colour for her_ _with that pasty skin_ , Stiles thought absently. _Didn’t she have friends? Or a mirror?_

Stiles snorted. “That’s a bald-faced lie and you know it. But you’re welcome to try taking me.”

That’s all the invitation these three needed to charge at him. Ms. Pasty Skin and Bones reached him first and tried to use her wand to cast a spell. _Which, what? Idiot! Would that not have been better done from way over there where she was? Seriously, even if he’d been considering joining a Coven, this one was filled with shits for brains._

To punish the stupidity, he grabbed the witches hand, wand and all and twisted. The snapping sound and the resulting scream was loud against the echoing walls of the warehouse, as her wand hit the cold floor. Allison cringed and Derek and Lydia flinched, as Scott’s jaw dropped. _What the . . . what? Stiles?_

Spinning her by the snapped hand, Stiles used the momentum to close-line the woman and the brittle sound of snapping bone was all the proof they needed that her neck was broken. Stiles dropped her where she stood, like the bag of trash she was. _Such foolish waste of life._

Angered by her mates’ death the older woman began chanting furiously. Before she could even get half the spell done, the breath left her. She stood clutching her throat, gasping for breath, the sound as painful to hear as her death was to watch. She fell to the ground wriggling like a marionette with a clipped string. One last struggle and she ceased all movement. Dead.

The cocking of a weapon drew all eyes to the single man that remained. _What the hell, did people still carry revolvers that needed cocking? How the hell old was that thing anyway? With any luck it would misfire so he could get out of here to his dad before you know who. He’d never hear the end of it otherwise._

“Last chance,” the witch said, an evil smile still on his face. _Such bad B-movie acting._ Stiles shook his head. _Total lack of originality._ Then he recalled how he’d wanted to be Denzel earlier and kill everyone in under 20 seconds. _Oh well, a good action scene was a good action scene regardless, and copying was the sincerest form of flattery, or something like that._

“Stiles, just get out of here for God’s sake!” It was Derek’s plea, and he finally looked at the man with the bushy boisterous eyebrows, and raised one of his own.

“What is your final answer? Will you join us Red Wolf?” the witch interrupted.

“I’m not sure how many languages I can say no in. I mean all I know is no, and well, neit! Oh wait, there’s also nee, non, na, nein. Holy crap, that’s more than I thought I knew. Impressive! Of course, I also know how to write it in Spanish with all the correct punctuations . . .” he trailed off as the man screamed his annoyance and fired.

He wasn’t the only one screaming. So was the pack, but Stiles just stood there looking at the bullet, before simply shifting and allowing it to strike the window behind him. Glass rained down onto the floor. He looked back at the witch, who was shaking a burnt hand, having dropped the gun which suddenly overheated in his palm.

“Now, my kinder nature is saying to me, to send you away with a warning. But then see, I did that last time and you came back. Your mistake this time, other than kidnapping people I know, is that you struck Allison and Lydia, and see, that’s what I have to kill you for.”

The glass from the floor rose into the air and the witch’s eyes went wide. No doubt he was thinking of counter spells. Too bad none would help him. The glass let loose and there was only the spray of blood and a gurgling noise as the man fell to the ground.

“Well that was unexpected,” a voice said from behind him, and Stiles closed his eyes tight and winced before turning around. Peter stood in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his coat and eyebrows raised in mock question as he surveyed the scene before him. “I was wondering why you weren’t where you were supposed to be.” The censure in Peter’s voice as well as the amusement was clear.

“It’s all your damn fault. You were late.” Stiles frowned, warily.

Peter laughed as his eyebrows went up again and he walked into the warehouse, stepping over the unconscious omega and raising his coat so the tails didn’t brush his mangy, dirty skin. The hackles of every wolf in the room rose at the acknowledgement of the Alpha that had just stepped into their sphere. Scott growled.

Peter merely wrinkled his nose, ignoring McCall as he came to stop in front of Stiles. “You are the one who was supposed to meet me,” Peter glanced at his watch, “thirty-five minutes ago. So in fact, you’re late.” He glanced at the body bleeding out on the floor. “Oh, him again.”

Stiles shrugged and rolled his eyes, “And I got bored.”

“P-Peter?” the surprise in Derek’s voice came out almost as a squeak.

“Hello nephew . . .”

Derek could feel the curiosity of the other members of the pack as his uncle, _his Alpha Uncle_ , responded. “I’d say good to see you, but circumstances being what they are, I wouldn’t want to seem insensitive,” he said softly with a raised brow at Derek, his expression saying it would definitely be addressed, some other time.

Stiles was always amazed that Hales could have entire conversations with just their eyebrows.

“Soooo. . .” Peter drawled, looking around at the still shackled McCall Pack members.

“So what? We’re going to set them free and then go meet dad for dinner, like we planned. I’ll tell him it was your fault for not keeping closer tabs on me and I couldn’t not do something about people in trouble,” Stiles responded as he glanced at Derek and the chains fell off.

“As long as you make it clear this time that I had nothing to do with the dead bodies. I was in the dog house for weeks after the last time,” Peter screwed up his nose as if he smelled something foul. _Could be the omega._

Stiles turned slowly grinning and then Peter realised what he’d said. _Shit,_ he winced, _the little bastard was gonna milk this for all it was worth._

“You were in the ‘dog house’?! The dog house, really? You’re allowed to make wuff-wuff jokes but I can’t. You’re such an asshole, you know that? I’m going to be barking around the house every day for the foreseeable future. Just letting you know,” Stiles laughed. Peter loved Stiles’ laugh.

“Right, and I’m the asshole?” Peter shook his head. “Can we go now?”

“Stiles?” It was Scott, pleading voice, puppy dog eyes and looking for all the world like he was about to lose his best friend. _Tough, because he did a long time ago,_ and Stiles had no desire to go back in time to change it, even if he could.

“What, McCall?”

The Beacon Hills Alpha looked like he was about to tear up at the use of his surname. “Can we talk?”

“No, we really can’t, and I’m late.” And Stiles turned, Peter on his heels not sparing a single one of them a glance. They didn’t deserve any more of his time. Derek was more than capable of freeing the others. But he bent to the omega, touched a finger to the fallen wolf’s head, watched as he frowned in his sleep, snuffled, before his face settled into a calm expression. Peter made a noise that Stiles knew he’d hear about later. “You won’t need to kill him. He’ll be on his way soon as he wakes up with no trouble to any of you. So leave him alone too.” The gaze he cast around dared anyone to challenge him on it.

Turning to Peter, he said, “Now we can go.”

“You had to touch him? You just had to touch him?” Peter sneered, nose twitching and face scrunched. _Oh well, Stiles guessed later was actually now and Peter would say his bit._ “You know you’re washing those hands before they come anywhere near me, right?”

“Really, not even if I . . .” whatever saucy comment Stiles had been making was swallowed up by the night.

++++++

Despite the earlier levity, the journey to the station was a silent one, Peter knowing perfectly well when to give him his space and when to force him to discuss and not bottle his feelings up. He’d gotten considerably better at it in the time they’ve been together, and because they discussed everything, they held no secrets from each other and Stiles was a lot more confident in expressing himself than when they’d first started. But when he needed his space, Peter gave it to him without rancour.

Soon enough they were pulling up outside the Sheriff’s office and Peter turned in the seat to look at him.

“Not yet,” was all Stiles said before climbing out of the car. _The asshole had to rent the most impractical of vehicles, a Ferrari California, to drive to Beacon Hills._ His dad would flip at the size of this thing. They’d probably have to end up taking dad’s jeep, because no way was his dad folding himself into this bug, despite the four seats. Sometimes he didn’t know why he put up with the guy. Stiles smiled because he knew that was an absolute, filthy lie. He knew exactly every single thing he loved about Peter Hale.

He walked into the station to a scream from Zerry at front desk. “Stiles! Oh my God! Look at you!” He swore that he could literally see the exclamation points after the woman’s every sentence and phrase, as she enveloped him in the biggest hug.

“Hi Z. How are you?”

“Good, sweetie! Your dad must be excited to have you back in town! You are back right?! Of course, you’re back!” she barely paused between question and statement, but her eyes shifted and widened when the door opened behind Stiles and he felt Peter’s warmth to his back.

Stiles just smiled. “I don’t think you two have met before. Deputy Zerry Ellis, this is my boyfriend, Peter Hale. Peter, meet Z. Peter grew up here in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles knew what was coming and wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t even sure the woman heard about Peter being an old Beacon Hills native. He barely held in the sigh as Peter turned on the charm, taking the woman’s hand and kissing her knuckles as Stiles rolled his eyes.

Zerry blushed and giggled. The sweet, intelligent and often practical woman actually giggled, reduced to twittering at Peter. Stiles exhaled and walked away to his dad’s office, greeting other officers as he went, then pausing to call over his shoulder – “Better not let dad catch you flirting with his staff!” to which he would swear he heard Peter scoff. _The bastard!_

“Hey son,” his father stood to embrace him in a tight hug. Then he stood back to just look at him. “You look good. Glad you got in safely. I could have driven down and picked you guys up from the airport, you know?” Looking behind him, brow furrowed, he queried, “Where’s Peter?”

“Flirting with your staff,” Stiles said cheekily.

Recognising what was surely afoot, the Sheriff only sighed, but Peter came quickly through the door, closing it behind him with a whispered rejoinder, “At least I’m not the one leaving three bodies in a warehouse downtown.”

“ ** _Snitch_**!” Stiles gasped.

“Love you too, baby.”

“Dammit, you two,” the Sheriff breathed. “You haven’t been in the country long enough for a body count.”

“ _You two_?!” Peter asked in feigned innocence. “I didn’t lay a hand on anyone. By the time I got there they were dead already.”

John’s eyes narrowed on his kid. “What kind of clean up do I need to do, or do I need to place you under arrest this time?”

“They were witches trying to start something. I simply finished it.” All this was said as Stiles shot daggers from eyes trained on his boyfriend.

He’d had enough. The Sheriff gave another wary sigh and shoved Stiles toward the door, hoping Peter would follow after him. “I need details, but I think I’m going to need a drink for this one. Let me finish up here and I’ll meet you two out front.”

As the two left, bickering as usual, the Sheriff smiled despite the conversation that was likely to follow and the reason he’d invited the two back to town for a short while. He was glad Stiles had settled down and found someone that loved him, really loved him unconditionally. He’d been a shell of himself when John had forced him to leave three years and some months ago. He’d been crushed and convinced he didn’t even know who he was anymore. But, just as John knew he would, he’d found himself, and his inner strength, in large part due to the man that had just followed him out the door. John still didn’t know if Stiles would have come into his own so quickly hadn’t Peter been at his back pushing him, irritating him and motivating him all the way.

The two bickered and loved like he and Claudia did in the early days and up until she got sick. He smiled warmly as his heart gave a slight twinge. He was so proud of their boy. She would have been too. Suddenly he scowled. He just needed to get through dinner without wanting to strangle them both.

++++++

Stiles turned, yet again. Peter loosened his hold on the younger man until he settled across his chest again. Still he said nothing. When it came to Stiles sorting out his feelings, Peter could exhibit the patience of a saint. Yet another thing Stiles loved about him.

“You gonna see Derek?”

“I suppose I should, especially being a trespasser on another pack’s territory. It’s been more than a decade and I think we have a few things to settle between us after all this time.” Peter’s voice was a quiet rumble beneath Stiles’ cheek.

“He’s your family, Peter. You should. I don’t know if I can deal with the pack again though. I’ve been here less than 24 hours and I already feel less like myself than I’ve felt in a long time.”

“You’re not the same kid who left here three, four years ago, Stiles. A lot has happened in that time. You’ve grown, matured, you’re stronger both physically, mentally, and your spark has grown as well, considerably. Darling, you don’t owe them anything. You’ve got nothing to prove.” His hands ran in a smooth motion up and down Stiles’ back, helping to settle him more.

“Intellectually, I know that. I mean, a big part of me feels that, but then there’s that small part that won’t shut the fuck up and reminds me how much they hurt me and made me feel like I was less than, and being here brings all that back stronger than I would like.”

“Honey, you unshackled Derek with a thought; freed and comforted a feral omega with a brush of your hand and a few words; took out three witches before they even knew what happened. I’d say the McCall pack is very well aware what they lost. We may not be able to avoid them, being in their territory and all, but whether you ignore them, speak to them or become friends with them again, one thing’s for certain, they can’t deny it, you’re anything but weak or less than. You, my love, are awesome, and now they know it too.”

Stiles rose up, a hand solid against Peter’s chest and looked down at him. The moonlight coming through the bedroom window illuminated part of Peter’s left side, but a large part of him was still in shadows. Still Stiles just looked at him. A smile pulled at Peter’s mouth, as his nose picked up his lover’s increasing arousal. Somehow Peter always knew just what he needed.

Before long the two were tangled in each other, breathing each other in and out, moving as one. Peter’s steady chants of “Mine” and “My love”, were joined by Stiles’ “Always”. Afterward they lay against each other, skin warm, damp, both sated, and Stiles feeling he could breathe a little easier. “I love you, Peter.”

“I know, my love.” Peter’s lips brushed his temple. “I’m just glad your dad threw out that damn twin bed you kept telling me about and got a decent one in here.”

Stiles giggled, _a manly sound of course_ , at the image of Peter folding his bulk into his childhood bed, which quickly turned into a mirth for both of them when Peter poked him in the side. Holding each other tight, they allowed sleep to come.


	2. We Will Find You Something Entertaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The McCall Pack is unsettled about Stiles’ return and worried about Peter’s presence. Peter and Stiles delve into the investigation the Sheriff has sought their help with and come up with more questions than answers as trouble strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because someone has to be a tool, this time it’s Isaac’s turn. Not a very long chapter, but enjoy.

“Did you know about this?” Scott accused.

“What? Scott what the hell are you talking about? I was there, remember? Chained up right next to you when they showed up. I haven’t seen or spoken to my uncle in about 11 years and Stiles hasn’t been in Beacon Hills in almost four.

“You think if I knew he was anything like that that I wouldn’t have at least said something in these past couple years,” Derek was pissed. Sometimes he just wanted to smack Scott’s head against the nearest hard surface. And right now he had so many emotions running through him, the last thing he wanted to think about was Scott and his issues with Stiles.

 _His uncle and Stiles were **together**._ His uncle, who was apparently now an Alpha. _How the hell did that happen? And how did he and Stiles become an item?_ Hell they even smelled like each other, but he hadn’t realised it until Peter had walked into the warehouse and he could pinpoint Stiles’ _strange_ smell. Like for the others, the presence of another Alpha was enough of a distraction.

Now Scott was having a meltdown because the Stiles who walked into that place, with an Alpha no less, and almost levelled it along with the three witches that had attacked them, was not the Stiles they used to know. And to know that he was in a relationship with someone, an older man, an older Alpha that reeked of power at that, was enough to have them all more than a little worried.

But then, Peter had spoken like if he and the Sheriff were on good terms, so clearly Sheriff Stilinski at least knew him and supported Peter’s relationship with his son. But then he wouldn’t put it pass his uncle to have said what he did purely to be provocative. _Like if his presence wasn’t a hard enough blow._ He’d always been a manipulative and devious bastard. He’d also at one point been Derek’s favourite uncle until he went mad following the deaths of almost the entire family and had left the country after being abandoned by what remained of the pack. There was still a certain amount of guilt that accompanied that thought.

“So how did this happen?” Scott asked bewildered. “He behaved like he didn’t even know us. And since when is he _gay_? And your uncle is an Alpha, how could you not know that? And what’s he doing in Beacon Hills? Is he going to try to take the territory?” Scott started pacing again.

The sheer power that had emanated from the Alpha was enough to cause pause, otherwise he’d be challenging the man and kicking him out of his territory. But that would only further alienate Stiles no doubt; plus Peter Hale was still quite an unknown equation to the whole scenario.

“Scott, he came to save us.” Derek reasoned. “He didn’t have to. He could have ignored whatever summons the witches sent out and left us to our own devices but he didn’t. So put on your big boy pants and stop accusing everyone of having some ulterior motive and agenda. We’ve got more on our plates now just rebuilding the pack, and figuring out my uncle’s agenda. Besides, do we really have any right to question whomever Stiles decides to love?”

Allison moved up, eyes on Derek as she touched a hand to Scott’s back. She, more than the others, had reason to fear Peter’s arrival, but she strove for calm. “Derek’s right, you need to concentrate on the pack. Stiles knows where to find us if he wants to and from all indications he doesn’t want anything to do with us right now. I think we should respect that and give him his space,” she said quietly.

Isaac was standing off to the side, leaning against the wall of the loft, Derek’s apartment, arms folded as he listened. “I still don’t know why you didn’t call me. I would have come, you know. We can’t just sit back and let an Alpha move onto our territory like he owns it.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Lydia remarked scathingly. “Peter Hale is powerful. You could feel it even before he stepped into that warehouse. Only an idiot would try to tangle with him rather than try peaceful discourse. And those witches weren’t amateurs. They already had four of us. What’s the use them getting their greasy paws, no offence meant to anyone furry, on all of us? As far as I’m concerned they got what they deserved.”

Isaac huffed, clearly annoyed. “What’s he doing back in town again anyway, and shacking up with a man almost twice his age, even if he is an Alpha?”

“Stiles’ father still lives here, remember?” Derek responded flatly. “And if I were you I wouldn’t let my uncle hear you talking that way.” Sometimes Isaac got on his nerves. The boy was always wallowing in his jealousy of Stiles, allowing it to blind him to everything else and to lose focus. When would he realise he wasn’t a kid anymore?

“Your uncle, huh?” Isaac’s eyes suddenly took on a calculative glare.

Derek shook his head. _He gave up._ Peter would sweep the floor with his cocky little ass if he tried to cross Stiles; that’s of course if the Stiles he’d got only a glimpse of didn’t get to him first.

++++++

John knocked on Stiles’ bedroom door. _Well technically it was now Stiles and Peter’s door, at least for the next week or two._ The men had agreed to stay and visit for a while after they helped him with this latest case. It had been quite some time since Peter had been in Beacon Hills and he was sure a lot had changed in that time. John had been a Deputy when Peter had left town years ago.

The man in question was the one who opened the door. His son was still comatose and spread across the mattress, taking up as much space as his small limbs could manage. Thank God, his bottom half was at least covered and Peter was wearing pajamas bottoms, though.

“Morning, Peter. I’m heading out. Coffee’s downstairs. Once you guys get up come down to the Office and we’ll head out to the crime scenes. It could take most of the day to do that and get back, so the earlier we start the better.” He glanced over Peter’s shoulder at Stiles, who snuffled in his sleep and reached out into the warm empty space his boyfriend had left. “For God’s sake don’t let him sleep the entire morning away. He very well could.”

Peter laughed. “Don’t I know it? We’ll meet you at your office in about an hour, John.”

John raised a speculative yet disbelieving brow. “Sure,” he huffed. “See ya _later_ , Peter.”

Leaving the door ajar, Peter turned and watched as Stiles moved again, and the blanket slid further down his body. He was always most restless without Peter beside him. He smiled fondly at the picture Stiles presented and suddenly his morning wood that had deflated as he’d got out of bed to answer John earlier was getting interested again.

 _Ok, so maybe an hour was ambitious. Two, two hours was fair._ He returned to bed with a lascivious grin on his face to wake Stiles up.

++++++

Derek pulled up to the Stilinski residence. He left the engine running as he tried to psych himself up. He drew a deep breath and exhaled just as quickly. _He could do this. He could do this._

He cut the engine and got out, looking up at the house. The Sheriff’s cruiser was gone and as he listened he could hear no heartbeats in the house, though he would not put it pass Stiles to be able to dampen the sound. So he strode up the driveway to the house.

He rang the doorbell and listened again. He wasn’t sure what Stiles or Peter was driving, or even if they were driving. He suspected his uncle would want the convenience of getting around on his own, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t exactly know the man anymore.

“No one’s there.” The old lady across the street was leaning out her open window and her frail voice carried across to Derek. “I suppose you’re looking for your uncle?”

Derek’s brow rose in surprise. The old lady chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised, I still remember your folks and your uncle when he was nothing more than a scrawny troublemaker in these parts. Looks like his father, your granddad, even more now he does,” she smiled almost wistfully. “Almost thought it was him before I caught myself. Such a sad thing when we lost your folks. I imagine it was for him too.” Seeming to shake herself out of the memory, she looked up at Derek. “You might want to check down at the station. Heard him tell young Stiles that they were late to meet the Sheriff.”

Derek didn’t realise he was nodding quickly until he stopped. “Thank you, umm . . .”

“Mrs. Abernac. It’s ok, Derek.” That got him by surprise. She took her head back in with a wrinkled smile.

Derek got back into the Camaro and drove down to the station.

++++++

Peter refused to blush at John’s knowing grin. When they’d walked into his office two-and-a-half hours later, Stiles with an obvious hickey ( _or two_ ) on his neck and bed head, John had burst into loud laughter, shaking his head and gritting his teeth to hold it in.

Peter had rolled his eyes as Stiles looked suspiciously between the two. John simply got up, retrieved his keys still chuckling and told the two to follow him out. Peter took the front seat in the cruiser beside John, while Stiles octopused across the backseat. Fifteen minutes later they were pulling up to a house with yellow caution tape still pulled across the front door. The seal was still intact.

John cut the tape and led them inside the dank interior. Stiles glanced at Peter. “You ok?”

Peter nodded. His nose was twitching though. The house had been closed up for a while, but even so, several scents had been locked up inside. He took a moment to centre himself. He nodded again and John continued on.

“Hal Franklyn move here about eight years ago. No wife, girlfriend or kids, but he did have a healthy social life. He wasn’t exactly a loner, you know, but not a trouble maker either.” John explained as he took them into the back where the body was discovered. “I don’t think anyone even realised this was back here. He never showed any interest in plants, at least not enough to warrant this.”

This, was a small greenhouse structure in the back of the house. Franklyn lived near the border of town, and didn’t exactly have close neighbours.

Stiles passed the two men into the structure. What he found caused his hand to shake somewhat. The greenhouse had been wrecked, the plants destroyed. He felt their loss. Some had been ripped right up by the roots before they were stripped of leaves or simply crushed into the floor of the greenhouse. In some cases, others were ripped to bits and scattered all over the place. It was a most bizarre case of seeming vandalism – _of plants?!_

“I was hoping maybe you could think of a reason why so much care was taken to destroy every single plant in here, yet the house was untouched.” The Sheriff’s hands were planted at his hips as he looked around bewildered, watching as his son bent, plucking a few dead or otherwise wilted leaves from the ground with reverence; which was in itself also amazing because by now these plants should all be dead.

Stiles frowned and rubbed one of the leaves between his fingertips and glanced at Peter, who took a deep breath before muttering. “Feverfew, I think? But it isn’t pure.”

“I know,” Stiles responded, standing up and looking around the rest of the room.

“What’s not pure?” John asked.

Stiles moved to a few more areas and did the same thing before John got a bit impatient. “Guys, something?!”

“Sorry dad,” Stiles said sheepishly. He’d almost forgotten his dad was there waiting for information. “The plants belong to various species that are used for natural remedies, but also can be used in our sphere for magic, potions, spells, enchantments, name it. This is literally a treasure throve of botany as far as the magical community is concerned. Some of them are your garden variety type herbs, but not all and some of them aren’t pure. I’ll know more of what’s in them after I take a few samples to test.”

“This Hal, he was human?” Peter asked John.

“As far as I know, but then I can’t claim to know who is and isn’t unless they reveal themselves to me. Other than the fact that Mr. Franklyn suffocated standing right here in his greenhouse with no apparent ligature marks, I don’t know what to tell you. We had been wondering if something in here killed him, but it didn’t make sense given the destruction and he was covered in some of the dirt and plant bits. So he was already dead and lying there when the place was destroyed.” He looked at Stiles for a minute. “As to whether he was supernatural or not, there’s one pack that would know for sure if he was something other and they haven’t indicated either way,” he finished softly.

Peter clapped John on the shoulder. “I can ask Derek. We have to talk sometime anyway. Whoever said murder couldn’t be a good ice-breaker?” He glanced around, “Were there any similarities with the other deaths?”

“Well at first, no. Hal was the first one killed, and then the two in Beacon Valley, but one, a woman, was mauled to death and the other collapsed in broad daylight in a supermarket, an apparent heart attack. He was 34. We didn’t even put them together until last week, when Waveney, I mean Sheriff Colthrust, over in Beacon Valley, said she’d heard that I had a death in a greenhouse here.”

Stiles glanced at his dad and then at Peter, whose lips were twitching a bit. _Waveney, huh? And clearly his asshole of a boyfriend had caught the stutter of his heartbeat at the way his dad said the name and was undoubtedly picking up something from his dad if that smirk was anything to go by._

“She said they’d had two deaths with no similarities or connections between the two, but then they discovered a property owned by one of the dead, with fingerprints of the mauled victim all over the place. It had been thrashed just like this place. We then found out that the two in fact were working in the greenhouse together. No one, not their families or friends even knew they owned the greenhouse. So Wave . . . Sheriff Colthrust had to have the coroner review the body again, had our autopsy report sent on down there to see if there were similarities in the deaths that might have been missed; or if our victims knew each other.”

“Were there similarities?”

“Nope, not that we could find. I told Waveney I’d let her know if we also needed to come over to her scenes as well.”

 _Again with the name,_ Stiles thought, _hmmm_. He walked over to where a chalk outline was all the evidence that remained of the late Hal Franklyn’s demise. As he stepped close to the outline intending to move around it, something glowed, then sparked, and he hissed as Peter snarled and rushed forward, catching Stiles and dragging him back.

“Are you hurt?” Peter asked around his fangs, eyes red and hands already bodily inspecting Stiles for injury.

“What the hell was that?” John asked startled, hand on his weapon. His heartbeat was going a mile a minute. “That wasn’t there before. At least nothing happened when my people were in here. Stiles?” he said with a trace of fear in his tone.

Stiles laid a hand on Peter’s chest to reassure him. “I’m fine, dad.” He stooped again, this time examining the outline closely. He waved a hand above the outline, mumbling a few words barely audible even to Peter, and a symbol beneath the body outline glowed faintly and sparked weakly.

“A rune,” Peter whispered. “Do you recognise it?”

Stiles shook his head. “You?”

“There’s something familiar about it.” He took his phone and clicked a quick picture as the rune faded once more. “I’d need to do some digging.”

Stiles nodded. “In the meantime I think we can safely say what we have here is a supernatural death. It remains to be verified if Mr. Franklyn was something other than human.” He looked up at Peter silently.

“It’s been too long. I can’t pick up anything from the body or the house, but I’ll get on that too. Sheriff, I think we need to see the other crime scenes,” Peter turned to his ‘father-in-law’.

But Stiles interrupted quietly, a soft frown marring his brow. “I want to inspect the house first, to make sure we didn’t miss any more runes on the way in and deactivate any that could cause trouble.”

++++++

Without even knowing if they’d driven or what they’d driven, the Ferrari stuck out like a sore thumb. _Yep, his uncle was still a showy prick_ , Derek reasoned.

He got out the car and went into the station to find him – left 10 minutes later after an enthusiastic Zerry Ellis relayed that she had no clue Peter was his uncle or that he had any living relatives. “Although really, those gorgeous eyebrows of yours should have been a dead giveaway!” she’d exclaimed. She’d moved to town years after Peter had left, but had certainly heard of the Hale family tragedy.

“I can tell him you stopped by if you want?!” she offered. _Again, what’s with the enthusiasm in her voice? It was most disconcerting._

“Um, yeah. Thanks.” He left the station with his hands deep in his jacket pocket, for some reason nervous about the possibility of actually meeting his uncle again.

++++++

Four hours later Stiles was sure of one thing, each of the victims had been involved in the supernatural world somehow. They were still uncertain if any of them were something “other” themselves, though Peter could smell only human on the belongings that remained of the other two victims. But the homes and “greenhouse office”, as it were, were marked; and just as was the case with the circumstances surrounding each of the deaths, each of the runes found were different.

Sheriff Waveney Coulthrust was also a revelation. Pretty, small, or as she put it “compact”, and sharp as a whip, and clearly beloved in the town. So it bothered her that two deaths, that could very well be murders, still had no evidence as to what the two victims could possibly have been mixed up in other than the suspicious plant vandalism.

It pissed her off, and a pissed off Waveney Coulthrust was a thing to behold. Clearly his father thought so, if the stars in his eyes were any indication.

“What’s it mean?” John asked, after they had left Beacon Valley for the 45-minute drive back to Beacon Hills.

Stiles just shook his head, gnawing on his pinkie nail. He had a lot on his mind. Peter glanced in the rear-view mirror and smiled – something else he loved about Stiles, how he could get lost in his head sometimes. When he did, he’d start gnawing on whatever he had at hand. In the absence of a physical item, he’d chew his nails. It was the first thing that drew him to Stiles in the pub the day they met, his bordering on obscene oral fixation, with a straw. Stiles looked up suddenly and met his eyes, blushing at whatever it was he saw in Peter’s eyes. “I don’t . . .”

His words were cut short when a powerful gust of wind came out of nowhere and slammed into the Sheriff’s cruiser, almost toppling it off the road. John fought with the wheel, trying to keep them on the road as the vehicle started fishtailing. Stiles kicked into gear as he felt the swell of magic in the wind and begin to fight the only way he knew how. His Spark revved as he tried to steady the vehicle.

Peter was wolfed out, eyes glowing red, ready to physically battle whatever was trying to harm his family. He tried to jump out of the passenger window to try to see if he could stop the spin of the vehicle forcibly, but from the time he lowered the window, the wind pinned him to his seat with sharp force like a physical hand. He fought, snarling and trying not to panic as he looked over at John’s valiant efforts with the steering wheel. But he couldn’t move and that was enough to near cause panic.

John groaned as the vehicle only spun more out of control, heading fast of a huge tree trunk off the side of the road. John yelled. Peter roared and fought the wind. Stiles pushed more power out, swinging the vehicle away from whatever was forcing it into the head-on smash at the last minute and the driver’s side of the cruiser smacked into the tree and came to a stop.

“Dad!” Stiles yelled, dazed, as John lost consciousness, and the collision impact tossed him forward, knocking the wind out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, did I mention that I’m managing to write a fic where Derek doesn’t end up being an asshole? Sooo gosh darn proud of me…lol. Tell me what you think of my new kind of Derek.


	3. You Don't Want To See Me Riled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles worries about the case becoming too dangerous for his father. Peter and Derek discuss their pasts and try to find common ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess what. I lost a debate with myself and am posting early. I think I'll continue posting as I finish chapters, rather than wait until weekends. So I may post on Sundays or during the week depending on how hectic things are.
> 
> Here we’ll start to get a feel for the Derek I want to bring out in this fic. Again, so happy I managed to write him as a better person this time around, probably a little closer to what he is in canon, minus a romantic relationship with Stiles.

Stiles paced. And worried. Paced and worried until the doctor reappeared. “He’s got a slight concussion and a bruised collar bone, with a chest abrasion caused by the restraint of the seatbelt when he snapped forward and a few bruised ribs from his impact with the steering wheel. Any harder and we would have been looking at breakage.” The doctor laid a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, as Peter reigned in a snarl. “He’s going to be fine, Mr. Stilinski,” the man continued, patting Stiles, oblivious to how close he was to having that very hand ripped out of its socket. “He’s tough, but we’re keeping him overnight just to monitor this concussion until morning. He’s lucky. Very lucky. You all are.”

Stiles didn’t feel lucky. He felt Peter move to his side and his hand cover the spot where the doctor had released. He couldn’t help but smile at his possessiveness. He knew Peter was feeling particularly vulnerable as well right now and would not suffer any unknown scents on him until he could settle his wolf again.

The doctor nodded to Sheriff Coulthrust who was standing nearby before taking his leave; informing Stiles that he could go visit his dad in a few minutes. They’d just brought him back from X-Rays and a nurse would come get him once John was settled.

The Sheriff bit her lips and looked annoyed. “I still don’t understand how this happened. That road isn’t normally slippery and we haven’t even had any rain recently. You’re sure there was no other vehicle? I’ll have my guys check to see if anyone tampered with anything as well.” The latter was said in a mutter almost to herself, to accompany the worry in her eyes.

Peter ran a hand down Stiles’ back and then across the dressing on his forehead where his head had smacked the seat in front and split when the vehicle collided with the tree. “We were the only vehicle we saw. I don’t even know how it happened myself,” Peter addressed the woman. That was true enough; but Peter couldn’t tell her it was purely supernatural forces at work.

He could smell the sharp scent of ash and rainclouds coming from his boyfriend. Stiles was pissed. John had gotten hurt and that was unacceptable. The last time John had gotten hurt maliciously, he’d had to force his son to leave the country. It was how he’d eventually met Peter. But now Peter knew they weren’t leaving until this puzzle was solved and whomever had done this had paid for it. **_They_** , whoever **_they_** were, had obviously tried to kill them or at the very least cause serious injury. _But why? And what did it have to do with the three deaths._ That was the million-dollar question.

Peter didn’t believe in coincidences. The last time he’d ignored a coincidence his family burned for it. He was paying full attention now. This would never stand with Stiles. Hell, Peter was barely holding in his fury. _He’d been powerless to do anything. He couldn’t even move from the seat while his family had been in danger._

Another time and another attempt to save family flashed to mind, and he tossed the memory back in the closet where it resided and slammed the door. _Beacon County, whether the Hills or Valley, he should have expected it would stir old ghosts._ Whoever had caused the crash was strong, that was for sure, but they would pay.

“The team said the tyre marks just showed the vehicle spinning out of control. John would never drive if he was tired or in danger of falling asleep at the wheel - especially not with you guys in the car. Jeez, he could have . . . you all could have died,” she choked out, running a hand through her short, curly, dark locks.

They all looked up at the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Mr. Stilinski? You can see your father now?” the nurse’s message came out as a question, probably sensing the tension in the air and uncertain how close she should get.

Stiles laid a hand against Peter’s arm, leaned up and kissed him softly, as if sensing his partner’s inner struggles and thoughts of not having protected them. He probably also suspected just how far back Peter’s thoughts had taken him. “I love you, and we’re all fine. Safe. There was nothing you could have done differently; nothing either of us could have done differently. I’m going to see dad.”

Peter suddenly tensed and looked up the corridor. Seconds later Derek was turning the corner, striding down toward them with hurried steps, a look of concern on his face till his eyes met Peter’s and then he seemed to take a deep breath of relief.

Peter looked at Stiles, who smiled softly and awkwardly. “It’s ok. You can come when you’re done, or . . . whenever,” he shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll find you . . . Derek.” He greeted the young man who’d just reached them before turning to the Sheriff. “Sheriff Coulthrust? You coming?”

The Sheriff cast and uncertain look at Derek, but followed Stiles. It almost made him smile again because he was sure he could all but hear what she was thinking. _Derek, in all his handsome, broody glory, still looked like a walking felon._

++++++

“How?” Peter’s forehead was furrowed.

“Uh,” Derek swallowed. “I stopped by the Sheriff’s Office today, to um, see you. The Sheriff’s neighbour said you guys might have gone to the station. I left a number with Officer Ellis for you to contact me when you came back to pick up the car or whatever.” _I swear that woman’s on something,_ he thought not for the second time. “She called to say you guys had been in an accident and she thought I would want to know. She only knew that the Sheriff had been hurt and taken to hospital, but that’s all. They were still awaiting more information.” He wondered if the Sheriff suspected she might be on something. That level of enthusiasm was surely not normal, his thoughts diverted him again.

“Concussion, bruised ribs and other minor bruises, but he’ll be ok.” He paused, looking at his nephew. “You drove all the way out here, by yourself, because you heard we’d been in an accident?”

Derek just raised his brows in silent question.

Peter’s lips twitched. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to answer a question with a question?”

Something painful flashed across Derek’s face and settled in his eyes before they fell to the floor. Peter exhaled. _Still too soon, huh?_ “Come on, let’s get some coffee. I could kill for a cup . . . Not literally of course,” he smirked.

“Stiles . . .?”

“Will know how to find me if he needs me,” Peter interrupted his question. “Come on.”

++++++

“You failed.” At this point it wasn’t a question but a statement of fact.

“The boy is strong, powerful. He fought **him** and almost won too; I couldn’t even get close,” the man said, eyes hard, blue, cold.

“That’s not good enough,” his master grated out, equally terse. “So the plants are still in his possession?”

“I don’t know. They could have been destroyed or taken away by the police after the crash; but I didn’t get to them. I didn’t have time. Like I said, the boy is powerful. More than we thought. By the time they crashed he had a barrier up around the car. I couldn’t get near even if I tried, not to mention the wolf was near feral.”

The man growled and the power that lashed out at the failure was hot and bracing. The other man screamed, but dared not raise his own power in response. When the flame retreated, the skin on the side of his face was smoking, scorched. He balled his hands and groaned against the accompanying pain.

“We’ve gotten sloppy. This is the third time the Spark has escaped, and if **_they_** even realise who he is, what he could mean, then our cause will be lost.” The witch paced.

His subordinate stood quietly, knowing better than to offer words. Words right now would get him, at best turned into something hideous, at worst – dead. Then his master came to a jerky halt. “Maybe we’ve still got a chance here. He’ll start to investigate the plants, and if he does we need the trail to lead him to us before he gets to **_them_** , especially to **him**. Let’s hope they keep fighting, thinking the Spark’s a danger because the moment they realise differently they’ll be no stopping their combined power.” The man nodded, mind made up. “What about the bodies?”

“The Beacon Hills pack got rid of them; bad luck for us. The others won’t like that there will be no burial rituals, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Well we’ll make our own luck from this point forward. Make sure whatever he finds leads him right to us. And Mannock? Remember, I don’t pay for failure. The others failed, underestimated him and now they’re dead. Don’t make the same mistake or the next time I will take more than your skin.”

“Yes, sir. What about the wolf?”

“I’m not worried about the wolf. That’s a problem easily solved.”

The man bowed and slinked away, leaving the leader to think, ponder his options.

To be honest, the wolf scared Mannock. Wolves always scared him. The unpredictability. The raw power and energy. The viciousness when crossed, plus the penchant for revenge. Yeah, wolves scared him, but he knew to show fear here was not an option. Not even a little.

++++++

“I’m sorry about Laura.” It was the first thing Peter could think to say. And Derek’s face did something complex and confusing in response. Peter wondered that his nephew could still be as emotionally stunted as he’d been. _Apparently!_

“I wasn’t sure you’d heard,” Derek said, as his hand wrapped around the coffee mug. _It was bad coffee. Like really, really bad coffee. Pity hospital cafeterias were such a damn cliché._

“By the time I heard, too much time had passed and it would have felt hypocritical to try to come back to pay . . . respects as it were,” Peter spoke softly, trying hard to keep the emotion out of his voice, but even now he still felt the slight – the pain of it.

“She was scared. We both were. We didn’t mean to leave you like that, but when she suddenly became Alpha and we realised what it meant – that mom had died and, then that we lost the whole pack, she didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know what to do, and Kate . . .” his nephew let out a shaky breath and his hand shook a little. He removed them from the mug to his lap, clenched and unclenched his fingers still the urge to sprout claws eased. “It was easier to run to keep us safe. I’m not excusing what Laura did, or what I did, or even trying to validate it, but . . . but, I’m sorry, Uncle Peter. We should have protected you too.”

Peter was sure his nephew had just said more in those few sentences than he normally did, and he digested what it meant before he commented. He recognised this could be a defining moment in their relationship going forward and for some reason he found himself wanting to heal and preserve rather than wound. _He was getting soft_. He scoffed at himself. _Damn Stiles and his save-the-world-and-family-too attitude._

“I blamed her for a while – for a long while. I couldn’t get pass it. It hurt and burned and, was a distraction from everything else I didn’t want to feel.” Derek’s head snapped up at the raw confession. “We’d lost everything, everything but our very lives – us three. But I couldn’t come to terms with it. With waking up alone and beginning to remember that both of you were out that day. Then realising I couldn’t even feel a single pack bond, and thinking they’d finally got you and then finding out you were just gone. Realising I was slowly losing myself, or had already lost myself, however you want to look at it. So I went halfway across the world because if I’d stayed here, I know I would have hunted her down for leaving me defenseless. Alone. Unwanted.” He breathed deeply. “And regardless of everything, you were both still the only family I had left.”

Derek didn’t realise he was crying until his uncle laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Hush now,” he said softly after a few moments had passed. “What’s done is done. It’s over. There’s no going back but there can be a forward.”

It took him a while to pull himself together again. Moments where he acknowledged that he’d done this to his family. Moments to consider his uncle’s olive branch, and he scrubbed a hand across his face. _He wanted this. He wanted it bad._ He nodded rather than spoke his understanding, and they drifted into a comfortable silence.

++++++

The sound Waveney Coulthrust made as she looked at his dad was telling, and his dad’s eyes swivelled to her, even before his gaze landed on his own son.

Stiles probably should have felt slighted, but all he felt was relief, gratitude that his dad was ok; was gonna be ok. “Hey dad,” he said moving forward to the far end of the bed, leaving space so Waveney could come closer on the other, nearer to the door where she seemed cemented to the spot.

“Hey kid,” his dad reached up towards his bandaged forehead, a frown on his face. There was a bandage wrapped around the crown of his dad’s head too, where he had torn open his face near his hairline after his head had smacked into the steering wheel, and the small cuts on his face from the shattered glass had been cleaned but were red and stark against his too pale skin.

“I’m fine dad, just a scratch.” Before he could ask, Stiles continued, “Peter’s fine too. I guess him being on the far side saved him mostly from the jar of the impact. Just a stiff shoulder,” he lied for the sake of the other sheriff, but knew his dad would understand that Peter had no injuries or pains. At least not physically.

“John,” she seemed to finally find her voice, but nothing else came out.

“Hey, stop worrying. The doc says at most I’ll be laid up for two weeks because of the bruised ribs, but beyond that I will be ok. It could have been worse, right?”

“What the hell happened, John?” she’d finally moved closer to his side and without seeming to realise clasped his hand in hers. “Your cruiser is totalled. I’ve text the team to ask them to look for anything that shouldn’t be there, to see if someone tampered with it. You don’t think this could be about the case, do you?”

“First of all, stop jumping to conclusions. You do this whenever you get flustered and that’s never good for anyone, remember? Second, I don’t know any more than you do and I’m not going to do any guess work without evidence. One minute we were fine, discussing the case, the next we were fishtailing all over the damn road. Maybe it was slippery, maybe the steering failed,” his eyes darted over to his son before returning to the woman, “whatever it was, we came out on the other side ok. Third thing, I promise we’re going to get to the bottom of this – the accident and this case.”

“Damn straight,” Stiles chimed in.

Waveney startled, like she’d just recalled the man’s son was in the room, and dropped John’s hand like she’d been shocked. Stiles smiled and tried to put some reassurance into the gesture. Turning to his dad, he leaned over and kissed his forehead, similar to what his dad had done for years to Stiles as a kid. “Now I’m going to find my boyfriend and start to arrange to get these samples analysed. I’ll check on you again before we leave. I’m sure Peter will want to see you for himself.” Glancing at the woman still standing stiffly at his side, the Spark smiled, “Thank you for staying with him, Sheriff Coulthrust.”

“Waveney,” she croaked and then cleared her throat. “Please call me Waveney.”

“Bye, Waveney. It was nice meeting you, although I wish these circumstances were different.”

“Me too. See you, Stiles.”

As he left the room, he heard his dad’s low rumble, “Told you he would be ok with it. You should have seen your face just then.” He tried to chuckle and ended up coughing with a pained “Ow!”

“Stop that. You’re bruised. He’s still your only son, John, and I . . .” Stiles didn’t wait to hear anymore. His father would straighten that out. Something in him shifted a bit at the realisation that his dad was possibly dating again; falling in love again. He didn’t know how to feel, so he sought his mate.

++++++

“So Stiles!?” Derek glanced up at his uncle.

Peter chuckled and exhaled. “Yeah, Stiles.” Raising his eyebrows and waiting.

“How’d that happen?”

“Oh God! That’s a story,” he laughed outright then. “We met in a pub, my pub actually. Yeah, I own a pub,” he responded to Derek’s look. “It was one of my usual haunts in Wales before I started working there, and then I bought it over when the old guy that owned it wanted to retire and take his wife on a trip around the world.” He smiled at the fond memories of Gian and Rebecca, recalling their last postcard from Barbados.

“I’d travelled around for a few years, not usually settling for very long. Killed a rogue Alpha in Russia, when he went half crazed. He’d attacked and killed a few people before he got to me. He didn’t have a pack, or so it seemed and suddenly I was the newest Alpha on the block. So I travelled around a bit, trying to stay away from territories that were claimed and somehow ended up in Wales. Something about it felt right, so I stayed. The territory belonged to a band of fairies who gave me permission to settle and work, as long as I didn’t cause problems. Later, it was to own the bar and some property in the area.

“Stiles was . . . learning magic then, trying to channel his Spark safely,” Peter said, not wanting to explain that Stiles had been a student of the Fairy Queen by that time. It wasn’t his secret or history to divulge. “He’d wandered into the bar. I smelled him from the time I came in the door and just followed my nose. There he was, head stuck in books, chewing on a straw, loud obnoxious music in his ears, tapping away with a pen and his feet. I can’t explain it, but something happened, well, for me at least. Took him a while before he would trust me, so we became friends, and eventually this.”

The smile on his uncle’s face was uncharacteristic when he added, “I knew instantly he was the one for me and so did my wolf. The rest was just timing and patience. Though I must say, your pack did a number on him.”

Derek cringed. He was wondering how much his uncle knew. “Yeah,” he said sombrely. “You know Scott is having a mini-meltdown about this whole you and Stiles thing. No one even knew he was interested in guys. He used to have a thing for Lydia.”

“Yes, the red-headed banshee.” Peter said and left it there. “Well you can tell your Alpha that I have no plans of upsetting the territory, so he and his band of misfits are quite safe from me, unless they decide to meddle with Stiles and then it becomes my issue. I should have before, but I do plan to formally request permission to remain in his territory until my mate decides to return home with me, which considering his father is in a bed upstairs might be a little longer than we had planned.”

When Derek nodded, he said, “Which brings me to another matter – our reason for being here. Given Stiles’ own knowledge of and work with plants with certain supernatural qualities, John asked us to take a look into the Franklyn murder to see if there was anything special about the destruction of the greenhouse. I thought I’d ask you if you or your pack knew the man.”

His nephew frowned. “No. He’s not familiar to us. We never even really paid much attention to him until he died and we heard how he’d been found. Wasn’t it a robbery or something? That’s what we heard, or rather what Isaac reported to the pack. He wasn’t supernatural as far as we know. I ran into him at the local bar a few times, but he smelled and seemed all human. Why?”

“He wasn’t killed in a robbery. The plants he was growing were destroyed yes, but he suffocated, without a single mark on his body. Added to which, we found runes, associated with all three bodies, all of whom died strangely,” Stiles said sliding into the seat next to Peter. “Hi, Derek.”

“Hey, Stiles” he was still scowling deeply. “So you think he was killed by something supernatural? Why didn’t the Sheriff say anything to us? Why would they tell Isaac it was a robbery then, if it wasn’t?”

“Firstly, my dad would never mislead you guys about an investigation if he thought there was a supernatural element involved. Secondly, maybe you should ask Isaac what he was told by Deputy Parrish versus what he reported to the pack.” His eyes were hard at the inference to his father. “Finally, we don’t think it was a robbery because of the destruction to the greenhouse and the fact that I accidentally set off one of the runes that had apparently been on the place.”

Derek absorbed all this. “You said three bodies. There’ve been more than Franklyn?” Derek’s alarm was beginning to show.

“Two here in Beacon Valley and one in Beacon Hills. Hal Franklyn suffocated without a mark; Jessie Parris had a heart attack in the middle of a store here in town, and April Calgary was mauled by ‘a wild animal’ while on her early morning jog through the forest. The destruction of and fingerprints in the plant nurseries was the only clue linking the three.”

Derek sat in silence for a moment. “Is this tied to what happened to you guys tonight?”

_Well, well, colour Stiles impressed. Seemed the broody wolf had grown up over the past years after all. He was using his brains now instead of his brawn._

Peter also seemed impressed. “We were on our way back to Beacon Hills when we were attacked by something that was definitely not human and definitely hostile. Tried to crash us or kill us. I’m not sure.”

“What did it look like? Did you see? Is it something we can trace in the beastiary?” His glance darted between his uncle and his uncle’s boyfriend.

“It didn’t . . . look like anything,” Peter replied. “It was just a strong blast of wind that tried to slam us head-first into a tree and kept me pinned so I couldn’t move.”

Derek went absolutely still; eyes wide on his uncle. When it seemed he didn’t know what to say, Stiles changed topics, “And I also need some help finding a sterile environment.”

Derek’s befuddlement was complete. “What?”

“I have some samples taken from the two greenhouses that were wrecked. I need to test them. I have some of the chemicals I will need since dad told me it involved plants before we left back home, but I need to source a few more and I need somewhere to work. I’ve got a good idea where I can get the chemicals, but the space is going to be the issue and it can’t be the vet’s.” Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek assumed his stipulation about the vet was because it was where Scott worked, and he frankly didn’t care to explain that the environment would not be sterile enough for the tests he wanted to run. So he left it all unsaid.

Derek sucked in his bottom lip and seemed to chew on it for a bit, as his forehead creased in thought, brows nearly touching. Stiles resisted the urge to giggle and Peter rolled his eyes at him. Finally, Derek looked up at Stiles. “There may be somewhere, but we’re going to have to go through Scott to get it.” His eyebrows rose in question.

Stiles sighed. _Of course._ “Well, I have to deal with him sometime. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

++++++

Stiles rummaged through the clothes Peter had managed to secure for each of them. They’d checked themselves into a nearby motel for the night. Stiles refusing to leave his father in Beacon Valley, despite his evidently close relations with the Sheriff there.

In all, there were three T-shirts – two in Stiles’ size; two toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, shampoo and a comb. He grabbed a shirt and headed for the shower, while Peter concluded his call. Being the drama queen he was sometimes, Peter’d contacted one of his “people” about the runes.

Running a towel over his wet hair, Stiles came back into the room to find Peter’s fingers running madly across his phone. He watched for a while as the man remained engrossed in whatever it was he was doing. “You just gonna stand there smirking at me all night?” he said, never pausing, but a smile creased his face. _Asshole!_

“I was under the assumption you were working, and we both know if I come over there you’re not going to get any work done.”

Peter glanced up from his phone, eyes deep, almost black. “Confident aren’t you, little wolf?”

 _Oh, so that’s the mood he’s in?_ Stiles moaned and felt himself stir. He loved when Peter called him that. The only moniker he loved more was when he called him “Red Wolf”. A nickname he’d earned in the supernatural community because of Peter, but only used by Peter when he was beyond angry.

Peter called him “little wolf” when he needed to let off steam and sex was the safest way to do so. Usually it was his most unsettled mood, which was caused by something other than Stiles. It always meant things would go from zero to hot, in mere seconds; and it was unlikely to be a gentle loving kinda event.

A few more taps and Peter set his phone carefully on the bedside table, got up from his position and passed Stiles on the way to the shower without a word or further glance, though Stiles was sure his mate did take a deep breath of him as he slipped by.

That was the other thing. In this mood, Peter was . . . volatile wasn’t quite the word, but close. He would take the time alone in the shower to reign himself in before he laid a hand on Stiles. But once they touched, there would be bruises after. The nice kind. The kind that reassured; that confirmed they were both still alive and well. The kind that told him he’d been branded by his wolf, and did not let him forget it.

++++++

Stiles rolled carefully from his stomach unto his back. He could already feel muscles that he sometimes forgot were there until after one of these moments with Peter. He replaced his head on Peter’s outstretched arm and the arm curled around him once more, bringing him close.

“There was nothing you could have done.”

Peter exhaled audibly, the only acknowledgement that he had heard. It took a few moments before he responded. “I could have lost you today. Lost you both. I can’t recall the last time I felt that afraid. Not even after the thing with the bog.”

Stiles turned, curled into this side as Peter’s arm pulled him closer. No doubt the incident with the leviathan in the bog was being relived. He’d hoped they were past recalling that scare that had almost cost him his life by now. “We’ll figure it out together. Like we always do.”

“I can’t lose you.”

Stiles leaned up and kissed his cheek, turning his face to meet his lips and gently explored his lover’s mouth.

“I’ll take you both away from here and this before I run the risk of losing you.” Peter said, knowing well that it would kill Stiles to lose his dad. But Stiles scoffed. “Somehow I don’t think you’re gonna get dad to leave the country anytime soon without a certain Sheriff Coulthrust on or under his arm.”

Peter made a hmmm-ing sound. “Been a while since he’s even spoke of going to dinner with or, furthermore, dating anyone.”

“Yeah, and he didn’t mention this one, which is how I know it’s important. That she’s important.”

“Maybe he’s been waiting for the right time to tell you.”

“I figured that, when I saw them together tonight. He looks at her like he used to look at mom.”

Peter kissed his forehead, over the bandage. “He’s been alone for a long time, baby. That can’t have been easy.”

Stiles wriggled, more to get more comfortable than because of any discomfort with the topic. “Oh, I’m not angry or anything. It surprised me, but,” he paused, “but I think he deserves to have someone, finally. I mean, I love him. I love him like it hurts sometimes and I know in his heart he will always love mom, but it’s time. It’s been almost 14 years since mom. It’s time; long past time even. I want that happiness for him again.”

“You should tell him.”

“He knows.” Peter could hear the smile in Stiles’ voice, but he repeated firmly, “You should tell him.”

“Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda love the quiet moments between Peter and Stiles, and I think you will see a lot like this in this one. I want to build a relationship that shows their strengths and vulnerabilities around and for each other, as well as to show how important honesty, family and true love is to both of them.


	4. A Not So Boring Second Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Peter have a meeting with the McCall Pack and Derek begins to realise how much he’s really missed having family around, while Isaac makes a nuisance of himself. Peter works his sources for answers, and the Sheriff is antsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apologies for not posting Sunday or earlier today. I got bit by the creative bug last week and went out and bought paints, brushes and painter’s tape. So I’ve been sequestered in my house the past couple days experimenting with newish designs, hence my "tardiness". This chapter was completed, but not edited, so I couldn’t just post. Sorry.  
> Chapter 5 may also go up before Sunday.

John groaned as he stepped out of the vehicle. Parrish rushed around to lend his boss a hand, but the man brushed him away, as Stiles met his eyes and rolled his own skyward. His dad was unsurprisingly hella stubborn. _No wonder! Yep, Stiles knew exactly where he’d inherited his own pig-headed trait._

“Stop fussing,” John growled, grumbling about invalids and sons who overreact, as he made his way up the path. Peter opened the front door, cellphone up to his ear and speaking in something that sounded like Russian.

“We’re not fussing. You’re being a stubborn pain in the ass,” Stiles said, then exchanged hard glares with his dad over his choice of language. His dad had been inundating Deputy Parrish with all kinds of questions about current cases, anything that had happened in the two days he’d been gone; any new evidence or breakthroughs in the Franklyn case and anything else he could think to meddle in. All he was doing was working himself up for an excuse to do work on his time off recovering. Well Stiles wasn’t having it. “You know it’s true. The doctor said take it easy, so you’re going to place yourself in bed or on the sofa and veg until I say when.” His tone begged his father to contradict him, and John, seeming to realise Stiles was really and truly 100% done with his angling for work, wisely closed his mouth and proceeded to the couch.

Stiles shook his head and turned to the deputy. “Thanks Jordan, and please tell the office not to entertain him no matter how many times he calls. He has to rest.”

“My ribs are bruised, not my brain,” John grumbled.

“And you’re not using either right now on anything but relaxation,” Stiles yelled back.

“I’m still the Sheriff, you know,” John called from the living room, annoyance in his voice.

Jordan smiled. Handsome devil that he was. “We’ll try to keep things in check, Stiles.” Then he whispered, for Stiles’ ears alone. “If it gets too bad we’ll blow the whistle on him.”

Stiles grinned, delighted. He liked this guy. They shook hands and he closed the door, turning to face Peter, whose brows were raised at him with a smirk on his face, as he mocked: “Handsome guy. Hot too. I’d say eight-and-a-half.”

“What?! Are you kidding?” Stiles scoffed. “At least a 9.5!”

“He’s short, Stiles. Lost a whole point for height.”

“Oh shut it!” Stiles laughed loud. It was a game they played each time one of them encountered a hot man. It was the source of much amusement for both of them and sometimes sent their friends into a blushing tizzy when they realised that here was the most committed couple they knew, openly appreciating and grading other good looking men.

It was just confirmation of what everyone already knew. _They were both assholes, no surprise there._

Peter grinned, swiped his phone on again and proceeded to make another call.

++++++

“Stiles and Peter want to meet.” It was the first thing he said when he got into the loft. Scott’s head snapped up. Derek waited.

“Why?” It was Lydia walking into the room. _What was she even doing here? Didn’t she have one of those fancy, frivolous lunches where they nibbled on salads and bitched about everyone who didn’t and dared to eat a calorie more than dieticians suggested?_ Derek ignored her and continued to stare at Scott, waiting.

“Did they say why or what they wanted?”

“They’re working on something with the Sheriff and want to bring the pack up to speed, and also, Peter wants to make his stay in the territory a bit more . . . authorised.” At Scott’s wide eyes he clarified. “He’s not wanting to stay indefinitely, but wants to make his intentions clear. They are only here to help out Sheriff Stilinski with a case and that’s it. Peter doesn’t plan on causing any problems in the territory.”

“And we believe him, why? . . . Is that where you’ve been these past two days, talking pack business with your uncle, the Alpha, Stiles’ lover,” Isaac said from the top of the stairs, voice dripping with disdain.

 _And really? Give it a rest already. I mean, what the hell was this? Was no one doing what they were supposed to be doing today?_ “Don’t you have a make-up class today?” Derek said, voice flat again. It was best not to respond to Isaac with anything resembling emotion because by the end of the conversation you were liable to feel like ripping his throat out.

“Cancelled. Lecturer is ill.”

“You’ve been talking with your uncle, Derek?” Lydia said carefully.

He resisted the urge to sigh audibly. “They got in an accident. I went to make sure he was ok.”

That perked Scott up again. The Alpha was suddenly on high alert. “An accident? Is Stiles ok?”

From the corner of his eyes, Derek saw Isaac’s face twist briefly before he hid the expression. _Way to go Scott. Way to bring the pack closer together. Sometimes they made him feel really fucking ancient, like the only adult among children. Well, except for Lydia when she wasn’t being difficult._

“Both Stiles and Peter are fine, but the Sheriff was injured, though not seriously. Like I said, they want to brief us on what’s been happening and maybe get our help in an area or two.”

“Hmm, sounds like something that should have been brought to Scott or even Lydia, as his number two directly. How’d it get to you before them?” Isaac butted in belligerently again.

“I drove up to see how they were, that’s when Stiles mentioned he might need some help figuring a few things out. I suggested that they meet with the pack. It wasn’t a formal approach. I know protocol. I was born into it.”

The dig obviously hit home, angered the pup, but Derek had had about enough now. “It’s just interesting that . . .”

“Enough, Isaac.” Lydia spoke up; eyes on Derek. As the only non-wolf in the house right then, he was a little surprised that perhaps she could read his growing frustration, when the other two seemed so damn clueless. “We could invite them to dinner tonight. Get it over with and smooth out these issues once and for all. If they’re going to be here for a while it’s the smart move so we don’t end up butting heads and causing problems.” At the latter bit, her eyes climbed to Isaac. The young wolf only scoffed and folded his arms angrily.

Scott nodded. “Make the call. I’ll alert Allison.” Lydia inclined her head and disappeared through the door she had entered. Scott returned to what he’d been doing, which looked like something to do with the clinic, and when Derek looked up, Isaac was already gone.

It was going to be some fucking night.

++++++

When the phone rang, John rose to answer it, but Stiles quickly shooed him back to his seat. “This is going to get old real fast, son,” he grumbled, but without fire.

Stiles stuck his tongue out at him, but drew it back a moment later when Lydia’s voice came through the landline. He listened for a bit and felt more than saw Peter come into the room behind him.

“I know it’s not protocol, but with my dad injured, could we maybe do dinner here instead? I’d order in rather than have anyone have to prepare anything and of course to preserve the integrity of the meeting it’d probably be better to take this approach in the interest of transparency and safety for both Alphas,” Stiles recited, making sure to hit all the proper points.

Lydia asked him to hold. She returned a few moments later to tell him the Alpha had agreed, but under the condition that they could bring Allison as a legitimate member of the pack and the Alpha’s mate. Now he turned and sought Peter’s eyes. “That won’t be a problem. Allison is welcomed here.” Peter’s eyes flickered briefly, but he held Stiles’ gaze steadily.

“Ok, then see you at 7,” Stiles concluded the call.

He and Peter shared a long look before the Alpha turned away to resume whatever he’d been doing. They would talk about this again soon. “Hey dad, Scott and the Pack are coming over tonight. We’re going to fill them in on what’s been going on and try to get me some space to do these tests tomorrow, Ok?”

“Yea, that’s fine. I heard something about Allison Argent?”

“Scott insisted that she be allowed to come. Given that she’s a pack member, it’s a fair request.”

“Is Peter going to be ok with that?”

“He’ll be fine. To be honest, Allison’s always been pretty solid. Well, I mean, after the whole brainwashing crazy revenge bullshit, but she’s been woke since then.”

“Woke, son? Jeez, you kids and the damn slang. Every week is something new.”

Stiles grinned. “At least you knew what I meant. Anyway, Isaac’s the one I’m concerned about but as long as the shithead doesn’t start anything, won’t be anything. I’m not putting up with his bullshit this time around.”

“And you might just want to keep it that way so I don’t have to arrest your boyfriend for murder,” said John soberly.

“Got that right,” Peter said from the door. “Allison’s fine. I’ll deal with it.” Then he disappeared again, back wherever it was he’d come from.

Stiles watched the spot he was in for a few minutes after.

++++++

He had to admit. He was a tad bit nervous. His dad said he would stay only long enough to say his bit about the investigation and then he was going to rest. _Wimp! All day giving Stiles attitude about being forced to sit and do nothing, now he wanted to take the advice. Sigh! Parents with control issues!_

The doorbell rang at 6:56, and Peter went to answer the door. Scott startled when he realised who it was before catching himself and forcing a smile.

“Alpha McCall, welcome. Please come in. Stiles is in the kitchen. The food just arrived. I’m sure you’ll want one of your pack to help serve.” Peter was at his most cordial. Offering to take coats, ushering them into the house like it was their first time, and Isaac started to grit his teeth in annoyance. Before anyone could advise him against the obnoxious state he was working himself into, he interrupted Peter making small talk with Lydia about her Master’s Degree, with, “We have been here before you know? We do know our way around. No need for butler services.”

The house went silent. Scott swallowed audibly and Allison went red in the face, as Lydia fumed. Before she could chasten the pup, Peter said calmly, smile turning into a toothy grin. “I’m well aware, but it’s protocol. Perhaps my nephew as a born wolf and one who’s familiar with such things can explain. Please sit everyone, I’ll get John.” He left the room before he gave in to his baser instincts and shred the pup.

Derek swung on Isaac the moment Peter disappeared into the other room, furious, almost growling. “Don’t you ever do that again. He’s an Alpha following the protocol of having another Alpha in his territory. While Beacon Hills now belongs to Scott, this house, this space where he’s called home, where Peter resides for however long he is here, is **_HIS_** territory. He could by all rights throw you out on your ignorant ass for disrespecting him here, or demand restitution for the insult you just delivered, and if you do anything else to screw up this meeting he won’t have to skin you alive, because I will.” Derek’s eyes glowed blue and Isaac cowered back with a whimper in the face of the anger that surprised them all.

“Isaac?!” Scott’s voice pleaded with his beta for calm, while his voice censured.

Then the Sheriff walked in the door. John wasn’t sure what had happened before Peter helped him down the last few steps, but he knew something had. Peter’s eyes had flashed red a moment before he’d focussed on him, and he was radiating cold anger. It was telling that Stiles had rushed from the kitchen and now stood in the doorway watching him, breathing stuttered as Peter tried to calm himself.

“What happened?”

“It’s ok. I’ve got it under control.” As John had cleared the last step, Peter had let go of his arm, knowing the Sheriff would complain about not being handicapped, but Peter drew a deep breath and dropped an absent kiss on Stiles’ pent up lips. John had then walked on into the other room.

“Who?” Stiles asked in a voice that brokered no argument.

Peter just looked at him, and Stiles growled beneath his breath. _He knew it! Isaac._ He snatched off his apron and dashed it onto the staircase rails, prepared to go in there and give the boy what’s for, but Peter grabbed his arm before he could even breach the doorway to the living room.

“Calm down. It’s nothing. Let’s not start this off on a bad foot. Let it go, Stiles. Please.” He turned his partner by the shoulder. “It’s ok, my avenging angel,” he joked, tilting Stiles’ face up to his. He kissed him softly and soon enough was devouring his mate while the others waited in the living room.

++++++

Lydia was pissed. So pissed she couldn’t even say anything, which had to be some kind of miracle for her. Derek could not have done a better job of conveying what she, and perhaps every other member of the pack at the moment was feeling. _The utter idiot!_

They’d talked about this. She’d laid out the protocol and still he’d gone and cocked it up. When John came in, she grimaced, stood and shook the Sheriff’s hand before excusing herself. She would go assist Stiles in the kitchen, and perhaps smooth any ruffled feathers along the way with the hope of setting a calm mood for the meeting. Let Scott reign in his beta who was already no fan of John’s.

She cleared the archway and came up sharp. Right there before her, was Peter, pulling an angry Stiles back towards him. As she watched, the wolf tilted Stiles’ face up and said something that made the young man’s lips twitch before he leaned down and kissed him. The kiss quickly turned hot, and Lydia even found herself blushing at the sheer need and passion coming off the two in waves.

 _They’re in love!_ It shocked her _._ She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but this, this was not it. It was so much more than she’d initially thought it was between them. Now she felt even worse about Isaac’s gaff.

So as not to further offend their hosts, she stepped back, then raised her voice, “Stiles?” and allowed her heels to click loudly on the floors. “Need help in the kitchen?”

By the time she stepped back into the area, the two had parted, although Stiles’ lips were definitely red and he had a glazed look in his eyes.

“Hi Lydia. Yes, thank you. I could use a bit of help. Oh, right, Lydia Martin, this is Peter Hale. Peter, Lydia.”

“We met briefly earlier, but thank you, Stiles. Alpha Hale. Thank you very much for inviting us to have the meeting here. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She bowed in a natural show of respect, even though not baring her neck as she would do for her own Alpha.

Peter bowed too, to show he was graciously accepting her words. “Miss Martin. I’ve heard a lot about you as well. We have a banshee at home as well. I’m sure Stiles will be delighted to fill you in on Mara.”

Lydia’s startled and then delighted eyes turned on Stiles, curiosity warring with protocol in their depths, and Stiles laughed. “Come on. I’ll tell you about Mara. Maybe I’ll even introduce you one day via Skype.”

The two disappeared into the kitchen and Peter took a deep breath to calm his own arousal before returning to the den.

++++++

Instead of waving off Alpha McCall’s apology for the little scene earlier, Peter decided – _Nah, why not_ – and allowed the Alpha to grovel a little. He nodded and accepted the words uttered, but his cold gaze on Isaac did not change the entire evening. _Clearly his practically forcing Stiles to leave town had not been enough. He seemed to want to stir shit up again. Well now he’d have Peter to contend with, so let him._

When introductions were made all around, Peter frowned. “I thought your pack was bigger, Alpha McCall.”

“Scott, please,” Scott insisted, “and it was. We lost two of our pack a couple months ago when we had an Alpha pack pass through and cause some trouble.”

“An Alpha pack?” Peter’s eyes darted to Derek, who nodded subtly. “The same one?” Again Derek nodded.

“The one who killed your niece is dead now, as is her mate and their leader. Two, a twin, managed to escape, or rather we let them go with a warning. They had no direct hand in Laura’s death, but we needed them out of our territory. They won’t be back, I assure you of that.” For a brief moment, Scott’s eyes flashed red, but Peter knew there was reassurance rather than threat in the gesture.

Peter had questions, lots of questions that he’d ask Derek later. For now he let this go, but he was a little shaken by the information. He’d heard about Laura’s demise, knew that the mantle had not passed to Derek but had been stolen by an Alpha from an Alpha Pack, but he didn’t get the details. Or rather, hadn’t sought out the details. He pushed that news to the back of his mind now. They had other things to deal with.

“Dinner is served,” Stiles stepped into the den and bowed to the group. With a short nod of deference to Peter, he stepped up to Scott and held out a hand. “Alpha McCall, it’s a pleasure to have you as a guest in our home. Please, if you and your pack will come with me?”

“Thank you for having us. I hope these discussions will be the beginning of an alliance that will prove fruitful,” Scott said looking from Peter to Stiles, just as Lydia had scripted.

Peter acknowledged the comment as they all moved into the dining room and the McCall Pack was led to seats. Instead of taking the helm of the table, Peter gave up his seat to John, something Lydia noted with interest, as Scott looked on puzzled.

Lydia had earlier worked out a chart of where people were likely to be placed. Peter should have taken one head and Scott the other, with Stiles and Lydia to their respective right sides. The Sheriff would have likely been placed to Stiles’ right or Peter’s left, but whichever option, they’d worked out how the rest of them should sit. _This new arrangement was unexpected._ Peter had elevated the Sheriff to the most important seat in the house. Scott didn’t know what it meant. Lydia did.

Stiles walked over and whispered to Lydia, before indicating that the Alpha should also take a seat at the other table head as is custom. When everyone was seated, the meal commenced.

From the outside, the discussion would seem inconsequential, but the questions relating to the Hale Pack in Wales were anything but. It was clear the McCall Pack hadn’t even know where Stiles had been all these years. John had held that information quite close to his chest. Now Peter told them about the fairy territory they lived on, about his small pack that it seemed, despite the minute size, was a tad bigger than Scott’s and while mostly still werewolf based also included a banshee, a kitsune and a mercenary fox, along with his three betas.

“A fox?” Derek asked with surprise.

Stiles grinned. “Yes, Braeden. She’s not easy to explain. She used to be a mercenary until she joined our pack.”

“Please, dear,” Peter genuinely chuckled, “she’s still a mercenary. The pack didn’t change that. It just gave her someone she could trust at her back. I think you two would get along, nephew, and if you ever visit I’ll make sure she’s in the country to introduce you.” He glanced at Derek to his right.

“Your pack has such free reign?” It was Scott who asked.

“Our pack is based in large part on loyalty, family, rather than location,” when he said that, he touched the Sheriff’s shoulder, “which in principle means that one does not have to be in the same space to be pack. It allows them to move as they will, but if they are needed they come home. It also helps to have a Spark and alliances who can easily transport pack members at will. So if we need them home, Stiles brings them home.” He smiled warmly across the table at his mate.

“How does that work with pack bonds?” Lydia pondered aloud.

“That’s where I come in. It’s a bit technical to explain, but essentially, I hold the pack bond with magic. It’s like being here and then being in another dimension spiritually, at the same time. So I’m able to connect everyone, even if we’re apart.”

“You’re bending the laws of physics! Like black hole theory!” Lydia said, voice soft with awe. While Allison and Derek looked impressed, Isaac and Scott just looked puzzled. “That’s what this new degree is about, isn’t it?” They’d had a conversation in the kitchen while dishing up the food and Stiles had confessed he already had a double degree in Botany and Chemistry, and was now pursuing one in Physics.

Stiles nodded. “I do it in practical and I know some of the theory, I just want to see how much further I can take it. As someone mastering in Engineering, I figured you’d understand.”

“Understand? It’s . . . this is amazing! Ground-breaking! This is a whole new way of looking at dimensions. So you could become pack with anyone in the world, without even leaving Wales or having that pack member even live in Wales.” Lydia was clearly getting excited.

Stiles giggled. It was an old familiar sound to the McCall Pack and almost made Scott whine. “That’s the idea, though if that bond is initiated with the pack member elsewhere it’s a little more difficult than if they form the bond with us and then travel elsewhere,” Stiles explained. “Right now, Braeden travels the most, so it’s relatively easy to hold the bond. But Kira is starting her degree in London next year and kitsunes need to be grounded, anchored. So it will be a good test for us. Plus, she’s super excited, and the big softie over there can never say no to her.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but everyone at the table, werewolf or not, could smell and/or see his pride in Stiles. The dinner conversation progressed. The more Stiles opened up about what he’d been doing the last three years and how much his power had grown, leaving out of course any information about his fairy teachers, the group got more animated. All except Isaac who seemed to stew at the attention Scott was now giving his long lost friend.

Allison, seated between Stiles to her right and Isaac to her left, also seem intrigued by his stories. With the shifting of the Sheriff to the head of the table it had thrown off their own seating options, so Allison gave up her place beside Scott to Isaac in favour of placing herself next to Stiles. Everyone recognised the wisdom of not placing Isaac within a hands distance of Peter. Every so often, Peter would look up and smile softly at Stiles as he flailed in one of his episode recaps of something stupid he’d done over the years, and how they’d managed to survive it. Scott became very aware of just what he’d lost by sidelining Stiles.

Once dinner was over, they retreated to the den for coffee and dessert. It was there that the Sheriff recounted everything pertaining to the Hal Franklyn case to the McCall Pack.

“But I thought he died in a burglary?” Lydia questioned, clearly confused and darting a furious glance at Isaac.

“The greenhouse was destroyed, but we don’t know that the murderer took any of the plants. For that matter we don’t even know if the person or persons who destroyed the place was or were the same ones who killed him. He had no marks, just suffocated, and his house still had valuables in it. So why rob the greenhouse and not his own home?” The Sheriff said.

Lydia clenched her teeth. She’d be having words with Isaac about the information he brought back to the pack. “Stiles, you said you had samples from the plants.”

“Yes, from both here and Beacon Valley, but I need a sterile environment in which to do the tests.”

“I think I know of somewhere,” Scott spoke up, evidently casting off the discussion about their misleading information until the Pack got back to the loft. Isaac meanwhile sunk into his misery and his chair. “They’re doing some renovations at the hospital, so there is a set of theatres that have been put out of commission until they can begin gutting them for the refurbishments. They haven’t been out of use very long and I’m sure we can get you in there and out without problems. Is that the kind of place you mean?”

Just as Derek had suggested, Stiles liked the idea. “Sure, if we can do it without issue. I should be getting the last chemicals I need by midnight and we can try tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Scott nodded, delighted to have Stiles willingly talking and engaging with him again.

“Need a hand Stiles?” Lydia asked hopefully.

The Spark grinned. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m redeeming Scott, I guess, but Isaac’s a dick for the time being. I haven’t decided if he will likewise see the light of day, but Scott is really trying to get on Stiles’ and Peter’s good sides. I’m not turning this into a betrayal of one pack for the other kinda fic like my last one, so relax – completely different angle here. Thanks for reading, please leave a comment on the way.


	5. Investigative Skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Lydia delve into the mystery of the plants; Peter gets a breakthrough; and a visit with a Coven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this one got me excited because we are starting to meet other characters and because I promised Jilrene I would give some background to Stiles and the pack, I did that here. I think I’m starting to like how it’s shaping up.

It was dark, cold, deserted, but it was perfect. Stiles flicked on the lights and carefully set the large bag on the floor, as Lydia set a box containing chemicals on one of the counters. Peter shoved into the room with his shoulder, carrying another box with equipment they would need. They were lucky that Scott had talked their acquaintance Danny, who now worked at the local computer store, to interrupt the feed from any cameras, so they would remain undetected. Twenty minutes later Stiles and Lydia were ready to get started.

Apart from the main area they entered. There was a glass room, just beyond them that would provide the sterile environment they needed. Both Stiles and Lydia were in lab coats, with Lydia following Stiles’ directions as to what chemicals to use, how to handle them and what to expect. It took several hours and by the time they were done, he was stretching the muscles of his back, shaking out his arms and trying to clear his head, while Lydia looked equally beat, a few strands of hair escaping her ponytail/bun onto her forehead.

“What does it mean?” she asked looking at her lab partner.

“Apparently someone’s been grafting and splicing plants and combining them with other strains and chemicals. Look here,” he slid the microscope closer, pointing out some anomalies in the DNA composition. “In each case, it alters their genetic makeup, and I believe it would also alter what they are able to do. Some of them, quite frankly are now even more powerful than what one would expect, given their original makeup.”

He smeared a sample of the sap of one of the plants they had been testing and ramped up his Spark. He erected a barrier around the dish as the sap began to glow in the Petri dish. As the glow expanded to colour the room a pale but striking blue, there was a popping noise and the glass beneath it shattered and its pieces attempted to shoot across the room like projectiles. The barrier however kept it contained.

“What the hell?!” Lydia jumped back startled, heart thumping.

“Exactly. In its natural state, this plant has certain healing properties for both human and supernatural beings, especially in relation to memory. In the supernatural world, it is also combined to amplify certain telekinetic gifts. With this modification, it is about three times as powerful as it would be under normal circumstances. In this form, I’m not sure if it could affect humans as well, but I suspect so.

“If they were selling some or all of these plants to the supernatural community, it could prove to be dangerous to handle them for the traditional uses if you didn’t know about the new properties, but I doubt this was done without knowledge,” he concluded, eyes wary with suspicion.

“In other words, they were doing this for specific persons for specific purposes?” Lydia said looking at the test tube closest to her. “Any idea how we find out who? And why that person or persons would suddenly want their suppliers out of the picture?”

“We’re assuming the people they were doing this for is who killed them.”

Lydia’s eyes went wide. “You think otherwise.”

Stiles shook his head. “It’s too early to say and I need more information; too many unknowns right now. But if you’re doctoring plants for someone in the supernatural community, or even doctoring plants against someone in the supernatural community, then it could be that you got greedy, or the other possibility that that person found out you were slowly and systematically poisoning their stash and . . .” he petered off that thought. He sighed heavily. “I need more information, and we need to get out of here.”

“Peter’s picking us up, right?”

“Yeah, he said he would, once we were done.” Stiles didn’t realise it, but there was a slightly love-sick look on his face as he said this.

Lydia smiled, “You’re good together; better than I would have expected and I didn’t know what the hell to expect, to be honest.”

“He’s really awesome. I never thought I’d find someone like that. I mean at one point I was sure you and I were going to be the eternal couple. Boy, was that dumb. You would have chewed me up and spat me out,” Stiles chuckled.

When it looked like Lydia would refute his assessment, he added, “Nah, it’s fine. It is what it is. We love who we love and it’s no use apologising for it. And thank you by the way, the other night for not acting the voyeur.”

Stiles laughed at her stunned look. “Yeah, Peter and I knew you were there, but what we had going at the moment was a little more important than propriety. So thank you for giving him a moment to settle me and vice versa.”

“You really love him, huh?” Lydia’s question made him smile wistfully before he caught himself.

“Well!” Lydia said, grinning at her friend.

“Yeah,” he ran a hand over the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed at being caught day-dreaming again. “Yeah, I do.”

“It’s weird, you know. To see you look at someone like that, and he’s clearly smitten with you,” Lydia summed up.

“We fit. I don’t know how else to explain it.” He turned around and leaned up against the counter, pausing in packing away and cleaning up to concentrate on his response. “I never thought . . . It completely blows your mind to have someone put so much faith in you; to know that person has placed their heart in your possession. It’s fucking scary, is what it is. But then to realise that you feel the exact same way. That you’d do just about anything for that person and that living without them is a concept that you’d rather not think about because you can no longer imagine it.” His eyes fell to the floor and he scuffed the ground with the tip of a no-longer-white pair of converse.

“I’m happy for you, Stiles. You deserve it. I’m sorry we had to drive you away so you could find it.”

“The way I look at it, I never would have found him if I hadn’t left Beacon Hills. Lord knows he had no intention of coming back here with all the memories this place has for him.” He turned to Lydia with a slight frown marring his brow. “I think because of Peter I came to understand Derek a little better. I mean to me he was always a pain in the ass, you know? So miserable, so serious, so intense every time, all the time and so driven, but deep down just so broken. I began to understand just how broken his whole experience left him, and fuck . . . he was a kid, you know? So much younger than we are now and not nearly as experienced as we were at his age.

“I really understood the depth of what they lost, what they all lost and what that must have felt like for Derek. The fact that he’s even able to be in the same county, let alone same town and same room with an Argent after everything. I think he’s stronger than any of us realised or gave him credit for. I probably would have burnt the world to the ground in his position . . . Hell, I almost did.” The latter was said so softly that had Lydia’s eyes not been on his face, she probably would not have seen the impact of it.

“We were all shitty friends to you, Stiles. Not just Scott and Isaac, but all of us. You were right to leave. And to think of what could have happened to your dad. Jeez, you scared me that day. And to see what you can do now, with just a thought . . . we’re lucky. We got off easy. You could have killed him that day. Maybe even all of us.”

“I’d never felt so out of control, and I never want to feel like that again.”

Lydia just nodded. “I for one am sorry, Stiles. Real damn sorry.”

He smiled, turning around and emptying a beaker and washing the contents down the drain. “Thanks.”

Lydia nodded, then smiled fondly at him. “What?” he asked when he glimpsed her expression.

“You . . . Peter’s not the only awesome one. You’re pretty awesome too.”

Stiles blushed and didn’t have a response. He fidgeted and took his phone from his pocket to text Peter and let him know they were ready.

++++++

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I told you Peter, that’s all I could find out. I feel like I should add a warning and a disclaimer though.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had information like this fall into my lap so easily before. It makes all my senses tingle,” his source clarified.

“You don’t trust the information.”

“I wouldn’t give it to you if I hadn’t checked into it myself, but it still gives me the jeebies.”

Peter considered this. He trusted Josh’s instincts. If the djinn was feeling iffy about this, he’d do well to pay attention.

“It just seems too easy. Like it was there waiting for me to find it, so watch your ass, both you and your boy.”

“Thanks Josh. I’ve wired the money already. Try not to have to spend it on bail again. Stay the hell away from the tavern,” Peter pleaded with his source.

Josh laughed on the other end of the line. “But the girls are so sweet and always so needy. How can I resist?”

Peter shook his head and hung up, turning to face Stiles. “We’ve got something but Josh seems to think it’s a set-up.”

“As in someone wants us to find them?”

“Seems like it. But the question is why and what do they want with us?”

“Indeed.” Stiles looked speculative. “Well let’s not keep them waiting and we can ask them ourselves.”

++++++

“Are you going to remain mad at me?” Isaac beseeched. “How many times do I have to say sorry? I told you I drew the wrong conclusions about what the information meant, but I didn’t deliberately mislead the pack. Look, we’re still recovering after Erica and Boyd, I just don’t think we should go rushing into anything else that will put us directly in harm’s way if it doesn’t directly concern us,” he tried for reason.

“The problem here, Isaac,” Lydia argued, “is that we don’t know if we can trust you to determine what’s important to tell us in the future or if we’re going to have to follow up every time someone gives you information before judging its veracity. As you pointed out, our pack is much smaller now, which means we have to watch each other’s back. What you did was not just lazy, it was dangerous. Can you imagine if this was something with evil intent towards Beacon Hills, and then if the Sheriff was hurt again because we didn’t act?”

Scott shivered at the thought and so did Allison. Derek stood silent with his arms folded, leaning against a wall outside of the loosely formed pack circle. If the Sheriff had walked into something because they’d failed him, he had no doubt Stiles would kill them all. He almost did last time when the Sheriff was attacked and almost killed because they had excluded him from information about the newest threat in town. His dad had walked unknowingly into the attack that had been set for Scott and the pack.

Back then the arguments and squabbles between Isaac and Stiles had become so bad that Stiles had taken a break from the pack after one particular incident had led to a physical altercation between Scott’s two friends. Instead of disciplining Isaac, who with supernatural strength was clearly the more likely of the two to do more damage, Scott had accused Stiles of baiting him. It had been the last straw for Stiles to pull away from the pack. It had seemed like Scott was constantly looking for a way to bring him down a bit, to punish him for who knows, whatever, and the young inexperienced Spark just didn’t have the strength to keep trying.

Stiles had always been the smart one and increasingly, although Scott was Alpha, it was Stiles the pack members mostly looked to for strategy in a fight – Stiles and Lydia, who then wasn’t as deeply committed as she now was. It had chaffed Scott that it seemed like he was a de facto leader because of his Alpha-ship, while Stiles was the one people looked up to, and whose advice they actively sought. With equal measures of smarts and snark. When he’d bit Isaac, Scott suddenly had someone in the pack for whom he was the centre of their world. It was like he’d forgotten that beyond the Sheriff, **he** _was_ the centre of Stiles’ universe and everything Stiles did was to make it easier for Scott to solidify and strengthen his pack.

Scott could admit now that he’d been jealous. Jealous of his best friend and had begun looking to Isaac for the hero worship he felt he should but wasn’t getting from his best friend. Isaac took that to mean he should do all in his power to be everything Scott needed and that there was no place and no need for Stiles. After the fight, Stiles stayed away, but still expected that they would tell him if he needed to guard against any dangers in the territory, so he could in turn advise his dad. They didn’t.

So when the ambulance transported a bloody, injured, Sheriff Stilinski to the Emergency Room, Stiles had almost lost it completely. Deaton had told them about Stiles’ Spark before, but when the boy showed up to confront them and had blasted Scott clear through a wall, and had almost squeezed the life out of Isaac without lifting a finger before he dragged himself under control again, it was clear the pack had made a near fatal error.

When the Sheriff got back on his feet, he’d sent his struggling, pale son abroad to relatives. The cousins in Wisconsin soon packed him off to Wales within a year, and that’s where he’d stayed. The Sheriff had known he couldn’t keep Stiles in Beacon Hills. The boy had been rapidly losing weight and his Spark had been taking a toll, draining the virtually unresponsive boy of life it seemed. Frankly, the Sheriff had been scared the damn thing would consume his son right before his very eyes.

“Lydia’s right, Isaac, you made an error in judgment and the information we received was soooo very far from accurate. You have to be more conscientious about these kinds of things in the future. We can’t afford any more foul-ups that can cause someone their life. Ok? And I know Stiles is not your biggest fan and I know I’m to blame for all of the mess between you two, but it’s time to put away that stuff,” Scott cajoled.

“I love you like a brother. You’re my first beta and an important part of this pack, but this beef you’ve got going with, or rather against Stiles, has to stop. It was wrong of me to pit you two against each other by my own actions and I should have said this to you before. It’s not a competition. My loving him as a brother since we were kids doesn’t mean that you are less to me. You’re both important, and what’s crucial now is safeguarding our territory and the people who live here. If there’s a murderer out there we should know about it before it gets to anyone else,” he said earnestly, looking Isaac in the eyes.

His beta flushed and looked away, shame written in every line of his body. When there was no response Scott said again, “Isaac, I need you to understand this bro. Do you?”

“Yeah. Sorry everyone. Look I need a couple minutes, ok?” he got up and left the loft, head hung low.

When Scott got up to follow, Derek called, “Scott?” When his Alpha looked at him he shook his head. “Give him some space. I think this is one thing he has to figure out for himself. Time for him to grow up.”

If they were lucky, maybe this would be the turning point for the pack as well.

++++++

Peter looked up at the building again and felt distinctly disturbed – not so much by anything in particular, but his were-senses were primed. Maybe he was being extra sensitive, but over the years he’d learnt to rely on these senses, especially after what had happened in the bog where Stiles had almost died.

“You’re growling, stop it,” Stiles whispered to him, mirth in his voice. Peter’s show of protectiveness warmed something in him though, like it always did.

The door opened as they climbed the steps, and before they could even greet him, the man standing there said, “Mr. Stilinski, welcome. Master Gideon has been expecting you. He’s on the phone at the moment, but please follow me. Can I get you anything while you wait?”

He was thin as a reed and had a scar along the side of his face. He looked like he’d been burnt with something viciously hot.

“Your name would be a good place to start,” Peter rumbled.

The man darted a nervous glance at him and Peter, _the asshole troublemaker he was_ , flashed his canines, grinning as the man’s heartbeat stuttered and started to gallop. “Oh, sorry. I’m Mannock,” he visibly swallowed. “Mannock Bradley. I’m an apprentice here.”

“And what is _here_ , exactly?” It was Stiles asking this time and Peter would swear the man looked like he was about to bow to Stiles before he caught himself and glanced nervously at Peter again.

“We are the California chapter of the Fathers of Pagan Hearts. You’ve probably heard of us before. We have various covens across the country and a few in Europe as well. We can trace our history back almost 500 years,” the man said, preening.

Stiles found it interesting that the man refrained from acknowledging or directly addressing Peter. Even when his partner asked a question, the man answered as if Stiles was the one enquiring. It was most . . . interesting, and no doubt Peter had picked up on the peculiarity and would play to it.

Mannock led them to a tastefully decorated room. Nothing about it screamed opulence, but sometimes the riches rooms didn’t. Just looking around the place Peter began to catalogue in his head. The furniture was antique, some of the books on the shelves were also antiques, others very valuable to the supernatural community and he would bet the painting on the wall was an original Paul Signac. These people intrigued him more and more, even as they worried him.

His wolf was unsettled.

“Can I offer you something to drink perhaps,” the nervous man offered again. As if Peter would ever allow liquid from this place to ever touch Stiles’ lips. He knew without a doubt that the offer was not really for him.

“No, we’re fine. Thank you. When might your, _master_ , was it, be ready to see us?”

“Let me check on that for you. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be but a minute.” The man dashed out, ostensibly in search of his master, but really glad to get out of the wolf’s presence.

“You make him really nervous.” Stiles commented softly.

A rumble sounded from Peter’s chest that might be acknowledgement, agreement or complaint. Stiles wasn’t sure which and he would not ask. Not in this place at least. He quietly raised a protective shield around them each. Peter might complain later when he realised, but he’d take the heat if it came to that. This place left him decidedly unsettled.

++++++

Gideon Pierce sat back in his chair and watched the cameras strategically located throughout the room. The mics didn’t pick up what was said between the wolf and the Spark a moment ago, but the wolf was tense as he sat in the room.

Gideon felt the frisson of power the moment the Spark came within range of their building. Now it surged just a bit, but he wasn’t sure exactly what the Spark had done to cause the charge in the air. He was probably the only person in the building who would recognise the signature.

He could almost taste it. They were so close to getting what they wanted. All of it hinged on how he would play the next couple minutes with the duo. A wrong move with the wolf and the Spark would bolt and vice versa, though chances were the wolf was more liable to attack if he felt his mate was threatened in any way.

The board was set. It was time to move the pieces – gently.

++++++

Stiles wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the man that stood before him wasn’t it.

He was stocky, yet handsome in a vague sort of way, and clever. Intelligence shone from his eyes and Stiles got the impression of being under a microscope with his gaze. Peter stepped closer and the man’s eyes shifted to him as a smile lifted his lips.

 _There was power in this man._ Stiles could feel it in the gentle thrum on his senses.

“Alpha Peter Hale, and his Spark, Mr. Stiles Stilinski. Welcome!” Gideon shook hands with Peter and then Stiles. Stiles felt a jolt and his brow furrowed, but Gideon didn’t pause, ushering them to seats arranged in a semi-circle to the left of his desk. “Can we get you anything to drink?”

“No thank you. We’re fine,” Stiles repeated, voice and face a little puzzled at his own initial response to touching the man.

“Very well. It really is a pleasure, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rose then. “Is it?”

“Yes, I’ve looked forward to meeting you ever since it was brought to our attention that you’d arrived in Beacon Hills. Your reputation precedes you, Spark.”

That got Peter’s attention. Stiles’ too.

“But you’re here for a specific reason,” Gideon continued, not pausing long enough for either of his guests to query his fascination with Stiles. Sitting and cross his legs, similar to what Stiles knew Peter often did, Gideon commented, “I was told you wanted to see us about the death of Mr. Franklyn?”

Stiles wondered at his own mental comparison between the two men, but he’d have to think on that later. “Yes, Mr. Franklyn, as well as Ms. April Calgary and Mr. Jessie Parris . . . It was brought to our attention that you were a client of theirs.”

“Ah, sad what happened to them,” the man said seriously as Peter tuned his ears for any fibs. “They were supplying some of our members with plants for various potions for business, personal as well as recreational purposes. Their deaths have really been most surprising to us. They were good suppliers.”

“What kinds of plants did they supply you with and did you notice anything strange about those plants?”

“Strange in what way? I mean, we’ve done business with April for over a year and they introduced us to Hal, who supplied us with a few plants that April and Jessie didn’t stock. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

 _Damn, he’s a fucking good actor. Wonder what’s the equivalent of a Golden Globe in the supernatural world?_ “What species did you take from them?”

“Well, I’ve never personally procured plants from them, but I know several of our members have. I’d have to contact them to get a list for you. Is there a plant in particular you are curious about, since you’re querying something strange about the plants?”

“Some were modified. I’m just trying to figure out if your members requested modifications or were they done without their knowledge and if there were complaints.”

The man’s brow wrinkled delicately as he presented the visage of worry. “I’d have to ask, but this was not brought to me by anyone.” He stood indicating this was the end of their questioning. “I’m sorry, I have another meeting shortly. Is there a way to reach you, Mr. Stilinski, when I have the information you seek?”

 _As if I’d give you a way to track me any more than you already have._ “You can call the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Office and leave a message with my dad, **Sheriff Stilinski** or the front desk. They will pass the information on.”

 _Clever!_ “Certainly.”

“Thank you for your time.” Stiles and Peter were escorted out, and Stiles took a deep breath the moment his feet touched the outside pavement.

“He’s smart, and very taken with you.”

Stiles glanced up at Peter after the wolf spoke. “He phrased his answers so as not to lie outright but I have no doubt that he knows what’s going on,” he said, not commenting on the latter statement.

“This meeting was bullshit and we both know it. I think he wanted to meet us. That’s what this was about. Or more specifically, he wanted to meet you.”

Stiles was silent for a moment as they proceeded down the street back to where they had parked the car. _He should know by now that Peter was not easily derailed from a train of thought._ “You may be right, but why? What does any of this have to do with me? I wouldn’t be here if dad hadn’t called. They couldn’t know he would, and there was no reason for him to have called me about this anyway.”

“Except the destruction of the plants. All the plants,” Peter responded puzzled.

His eyes suddenly went Alpha red as his hackles raised, the same moment that the hair on the back of Stiles’ neck told him they were being watched. He quickly raised the shields again. The Alpha paused, head searching around them, as Stiles drew his Spark near, ready for any attack.

“You feel it.” Peter’s remark was more statement than question. _Of course his mate could feel this._

“Yes, but I don’t know from where.”

Peter’s eyes zoomed in across the street, and both looked at the man with the glowing blue eyes. As Peter prepared to rush the threat, Stiles placed a restraining hand on his mate, halting any action, while restraining his own Spark. _Too many civilians._

The expression on the man’s face was one of pure rage, but just as suddenly as it seemed like he had appeared, he disappeared in a swirl of angry wind, causing the woman who’d been about to pass by him to hold onto her dress in panic, as another pedestrian hid his face at the swirl of dust in the man’s wake. A couple holding hands held onto each other in fright.

“What and who the hell was that?” Stiles asked softly, not expecting an answer.

“I don’t know, but I think we can assume that we just found who tried to kill us,” his mate responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: Ok, if anyone knows of a coven named Fathers of Pagan Hearts, please know that any resemblance here is strictly coincidence. I pulled names of existing covens together to get this one, but couldn’t find one by this full name online, so hopefully it doesn’t exist. (crosses fingers)
> 
> Some feedback would be lovely. Thanks for following those who still are and for the comments. They make me smile!


	6. A Bit of Excitement At Last - The Mysterious Wind Dude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Packs begin to look into the Fathers of Pagan Hearts and the Mysterious Wind Dude (MWD).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MWD – lol, see what I did there? If you don’t, it’s ok. My sense of humour is a little wack. But enjoy.

“What did he look like?” Scott asked pacing, eyes flashing on and off.

“Glowing blue eyes, bearded face, brawny, bushy eyebrows that spoke volumes,” Stiles glanced briefly at Derek, “although I doubt he was a Hale or anyhow related.” Peter growled at the attempt at humour from his mate and Derek looked equally unimpressed.

The moment they’d got to the car and Stiles had controlled the shaking in his hands, he’d dialled Scott and asked that someone keep an eye on his dad until he and Peter got back to Beacon Hills. He’d only told the Beacon Hills Alpha that they’d spotted the person they thought tried to kill them and Scott had been roaring down the line, but he’d acted quickly enough. By the time the duo got back to BH, keeping a careful eye out for any attacks and with Stiles keeping a barrier around the vehicle the entire way, the entire McCall pack was at his father’s – Derek’s, Scott’s and Lydia’s cars parked out front.

The car pulled up to the house at the same time the door was flung open and his dad stood in the doorway, face scrunched with worry and relief.

Peter’s phone rang and the wolf glanced at the ID, closing his eyes briefly and exhaling, before circling the car and whispering to Stiles, “The Pack. Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Nope,” Stiles said stubbornly. He was only just coming down from the high of his Spark being forced into action, like after an adrenaline rush. “Not letting you out of my sight right now. Not happening.”

“Hang on a sec, Brae.” And pulled Stiles into his arms. Stiles closed his eyes and pressed his face into Peter’s chest. “You know they’re going to be bouncing off the walls until I tell them something.”

Stiles nodded into his chest. “So do it inside. Where everyone else is . . . please.” Stiles couldn’t explain his sudden fear. He knew he was powerful. He also knew that the first attack had caught them off-guard and by the time he’d had the presence of mind to kick his Spark into action and had a barrier around the car to stop a lot of the intended damage, it had almost been too late. He was suddenly aware that there was out there somewhere, someone that wanted to do them harm for whatever reason, and he was strong. _Really. Fucking. Strong._

Add to this the fact that he didn’t trust that Gideon as far as he could probably throw him; it was all a circle of mystery around this case that he never would have expected when his dad had made the simple request. _And he’d been complaining about boredom. Never again! Well . . . maybe not for a few weeks after they settled this one. After all he was Stiles, and getting into shit was in his DNA._

Peter kissed the top of his head. “Ok.” And they walked into the house, where the Sheriff’s eyes quickly raked over them both to satisfy his own nerves, and where the McCall Pack began launching questions immediately.

“We’ll answer your questions after Peter finishes reassuring our pack at home.”

Peter spoke briefly and then handed the phone to Stiles. “Hey, Brae.”

“You’re spiking, Sparky, and it’s got Kira on edge and talking about taking the next flight out. So unless you want a kitsune and a fox in the BH territory burning shit to the ground and killing everything in sight, you need to ease it down a bit. Roman’s already called us twice to find out what we know and I think you know what that means.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll dial it down a bit.”

“This is the second spike in less than a week, Stiles. Are you sure you guys are all right? I’m not above cracking a few head, you know.” That pulled a laugh out of Stiles. _Lord, did he ever know it._ The moment Braeden landed in Beacon Hills the death toll would rise, indiscriminately but with extreme prejudice. It would make what he’d done when he got here look like child’s play. If there’s one thing that fox loved, it was a good hunt and kill. Best to cut this off now.

“I promise we are ok. Tell Roman, Das, and Phillip they are not to leave the territory by order of their Alpha and Emissary; and that includes flights to America, California in particular. Tell Kira I will call her before midnight, your time. And you are not allowed to worry unless Mara screams.” Stiles swallowed and rubbed his forehead, then looked up at his mate. “If Mara screams all bets are off, all instructions moot. We love you guys. Don’t cause too much damage time we get back, but we gotta run,” He passed the phone back to Peter who said a few more words of reassurance to the fox before hanging up.

“Wow,” Lydia said. “They felt what happened all the way back there?”

Stiles shrugged, fisting and releasing his hands to help ease the tension. “Like I told you, pack bonds.”

“So do we know anything about this bearded individual who apparently can conjure wind at will?” Derek asked, brows furrowed, and Stiles tried not the smile, and the thought eased his nerves a bit. Peter rubbed his back.

“MWD,” Stiles said. “Mysterious Wind Dude.” As if that explained everything.

Derek frowned at him a little more.

“Not helping.” Peter growled low, smacking his mate across the head softly. “I think we should all sit. We need to also discuss the coven which we’re convinced is caught up at the very centre of this thing somehow.”

++++++

Gideon smiled, sure his guests would be back with more questions, especially after the wind show in the street.

“He saw them but didn’t attack. What does that mean?” his comrade asked, worry clear in her voice. “He should have attacked them for being here. He clearly thinks they are part of it now.”

“Which is good for us. I think it will bring the Spark back for more questions. We can use this to our advantage,” Gideon responded.

“He’s not an idiot.” It was said harshly and with caution. “He was untrained before, he isn’t now. Don’t make the mistake of thinking we can turn him into our weapon or our salvation. He could just as easily be our destruction. And let’s not underestimate his wolf either. He wasn’t known as the Destroyer in our circles for no reason before he lost his Alpha and family. You’d do well to remember the strikes against his name! And the reputation they’ve been building overseas.”

“Which is why we will win them to our cause, Jasper. Where the Spark goes the wolf will follow,” Gideon said, smarting at the censure. _As if he needed to be told what and who Stiles was._ He’d known Stiles all his life. Had watched over the boy all these years, even from afar and that wouldn’t change. The only thing that had stopped him claiming him before now was opportunity.

_They were connected and he was creating a direct path to get to him. He would not be derailed now. Not this time._

++++++

“Angus! Stop!” his wife groaned, sapped of energy as she dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. It caused her husband to stop his rant and rush to her side.

“I’m sorry. It just makes me so mad. They have to pay for what they’ve done.”

“But not like this. If the boy is as strong as you say he is, I’m worried that you may have bitten off more than you can chew this time. I don’t want to lose you and the others won’t be happy that you went down into the Valley and showed yourself.” She was as pale as her hair was platinum blond, skin translucent but there was nothing healthy-looking about her fairness.

Veins showed beneath her skin and she was thin enough that her bones were starting to show at her collar, elbows and stomach. She looked like a woman wasting away to nothing.

“We still don’t know what they want, Angus. The others think we should arrange to meet with them.”

“They met with Gideon and his band today, what could we possibly have to say to them. Chances are they will resume the trade,” he sneered.

“You can’t assume this, my love. He’s got power, you said you felt it yourself, and he was with a wolf, so maybe. . .”

“Yes, and they were with the human the first time we saw them leaving the traitor’s house. They can’t be trusted.”

“There’s too much we don’t know about them to assume anything, honey. I just think we shouldn’t act rashly until we’ve met with the others.”

Angus was conflicted. He didn’t know who was friend or foe anymore and they were running out of time.

++++++

“You can’t hesitate next time, Stiles,” Lydia said. “What if he’d attacked again? You have to strike first.”

“There’s still too much we don’t know. I’m all for a good, solid defence strategy, but we don’t even know who any of these people are. You said yourself you don’t trust the coven, and this guy was hanging around outside for when you left, and you believe he’s the one that attacked us. Why not attack then?” the Sheriff sought to insert a rationale into to the discussion. “I’m just saying I don’t think the person who wanted us dead would have hesitated, human witnesses or not. Again you said he disappeared in full view of humans, so it can’t be a case that he wanted to strike in secret. Seems to me whoever he is he doesn’t care about these things.”

Parrish, who’d come at John’s request, nodded sagely at his boss’ words. Parrish wasn’t exactly pack, but more like pack adjacent.

“John is right. I don’t get why he hesitated with as much rage as he was directing at us.” Peter added.

“So what are you suggesting is that we just don’t react next time? That could be a death wish, for you or any one of us. We can’t assume they’re only going to attack you or Peter. This is about the rest of us as well,” Scott said, as Lydia and Allison nodded.

“I think we need more information,” Isaac said quietly. He’d been sitting quietly listening to the debate bounce back and forth on kill on sight versus questioning on sight for the better part of the last hour.

The entire house went silent as he took a deep breath and tried. “Look, I’m just thinking we don’t know enough to act or not act. We can defend ourselves like the Sheriff said, but we can’t just go on the attack because we still don’t know anything for sure. And isn’t this what we’ve been antsy about, the fact that everything is unknown at this point?”

Peter regarded the lad with something bordering on grudging acceptance. Stiles ducked his head and smiled as he felt his mate’s hesitation, as Scott looked at his beta with confusion warring with pride.

“Ok, what do we know?” Peter summed up, recovering and accepting Isaac’s supposition. “That three people who were meddling in supernatural plants and selling them to the supernatural community are dead, possibly murdered. If we are going with the theory that the wind guy – and we have to find out what the hell he is cause I won’t,” he pointed a warning finger at Stiles who’d just opened his mouth to chime in with the initialism, “I won’t call him MWD or what the hell ever,” Stiles grinned in satisfaction and Peter shook his head in mock despair at his mate’s misplaced wit. “If we go with the theory that he is the bad guy in this, yes he could have suffocated Franklyn, assuming that he has the power to remove air from the lungs or sap the air from a room. But how does he give the Parris guy a heart attack and maul a woman to death?”

“You said you weren’t sure what he was, could he be a shifter of some kind?” Parrish asked.

“With his wind abilities, I’m thinking not,” Lydia responded. “We need to research all creatures who have this ability. I think that’s the only place to start to even figure out what he could be and what other abilities someone like that could have.”

“Lydia’s right, because if this man,” Derek glared at Stiles who’d lipped MWD at him, “if this individual is unconcerned with how much damage he causes in public, in full view of everyone, he stands the risk of exposing us all.”

The room went silent again, exchanging worried glances.

“Shit!” Stiles said, suddenly serious.

“And how does this coven fit into the equation, other than our suspicion that perhaps they may have been purchasing some of the doctored plants, with or without their knowledge?” Isaac chimed in again.

“I’m gonna go with ‘with their knowledge’. There’s nothing that will convince me the leader Gideon didn’t know, regardless of what he says,” Stiles replied.

“And why’s he so interested in you?” John asked, eyes on his son.

“He addressed you as Spark and Alpha, which says he knows a hell of a lot about both of you,” Derek followed up.

“I don’t know.” It was Peter’s time to frown, looking at his mate. “I think Stiles was the primary interest there.”

“In what way?” John asked.

“It’s nothing definite I can put my finger on, but a feeling that he was really focussed on him the entire time we were there,” Peter responded. “Plus his little shifty assistant all but bow and scraped to him.”

Stiles didn’t know why he didn’t mention the jolt he’d received as he shook Gideon’s hand. It was something he’d bring up with Peter later. No need to get his dad’s pressure going with any more fear than he was already carrying.

“Could he have anything to do with the other witches perhaps?” At Isaac’s question a pin could have been heard dropping to the carpet, the room was so still.

“Fuck!” Stiles exploded. “I forgot about those jackasses.”

“One of the witches said their boss wanted you, remember?” Scott asked.

“But that makes no sense because they’ve tried before, but that was in Wisconsin, and then it had nothing to do with this case or even coming back to Beacon Hills.”

“True, but she did distinctly say their boss wanted to meet with you.” Lydia reminded him.

Peter’s eyes narrowed on his wayward mate. “Something you forgot to tell me, hun?”

“Fuckity, fucking shit! I didn’t remember!”

“Stiles!” John complained.

“Sorry, dad,” he blushed at the parental censure on his tongue. _He was an adult, dammit! He could swear if he wanted. Right, try telling his dad that._

“Well, the words coming out of your mouth don’t exactly thrill me, but you didn’t tell us about the witches wanting to take you to someone. I thought it was just they wanted you to join their coven?”

Stiles coloured again.

“Anything else you’ve forgotten to mention, dear?” Peter asked dryly. When Stiles gulped Peter knew there was something, but his mate shook his head and he left it alone to bring up later. He continued, “Ok, so let’s revise with the new information. The witch who’d attacked you before was trying to capture you for his boss. His boss may or may not be, Master Gideon of the Fathers of Pagan Hearts. We need someone to dig up all they can find about that organisation and I think I have just the person. I’ll deal with it later.

“So before we got here, three people were murdered. Around their homes and greenhouses were various runes, some of which are used by this coven for various purposes, including scrying. The runes are how we traced the case to the coven. We know the three were seemingly cultivating these plants for the supernatural community. While investigating said deaths, we were attacked by someone powerful enough to use wind to try to either kill or stop us. We know that this coven, which may or may not be the former home of said dead kidnapping witches, has a peculiar interest in Stiles. And on leaving the coven, after I’m sure Master Gideon lied about their business with the three dead ‘scientists’ and I hate having to use the word so loosely, we encountered a wind being,” he stared at Stiles, who seemed deep in thought and had perhaps forgotten about his little initialism.

“Ok, so if MWD,” – _Oh well, one could hope_ – “isn’t our murderer and the coven is, then why try to kill us?” Stiles asked.

No one had an answer.

“And why kidnap us to bring you out into the open, when they’d already killed three people that had done just that when the Sheriff called for your help?” Lydia queried.

“You’re assuming they knew the Sheriff would bring Stiles here,” Isaac said, folding his arms, though the gesture did not seem provoked by any kind of negative feeling.

“It was a last minute decision on my part. Nothing premeditated. It only came to me after a conversation I had with Sheriff Coulthrust when we realised our cases might be linked. Even she had no idea I was bringing my son back,” the Sheriff shifted in his chair, a scowl on his face.

“There’s a lot of circumstantial guess work going on here. We’ve still got nothing concrete,” Jordan chimed in.

“Add this then – why the hell is it called Fathers of Pagan Hearts, if there are women in the coven? Stiles killed at least two, that night. Can we assume we’re only dealing with one coven or even that this coven is the same one that attacked us?” Allison pointed out.

“Jeez, my mind is officially mush,” Stiles complained. “I can’t make head or tails of this anymore. All we have right now are even more questions.”

“So we investigate, carefully,” the Sheriff said. _Time to delegate._

By the time John was through, pushed himself to his feet as his ribs twinged a bit and he held in the groan, everyone had a task.

“I don’t think we have to remind everyone that whoever did this is dangerous and still out there. Don’t take any unnecessary risks and make sure you are accounted for with your Alpha at all times. If your Alpha goes missing, heavens forbid, check in with Parrish or myself and report it. We will both keep in touch with Scott and Peter from here on out and pool our information, so everyone knows everything.” He glanced at his son again with worry.

“Sounds good,” Scott commented, looking around at his pack.

“Agreed,” Peter said. “We meet back here tomorrow night with whatever information we’ve managed to gather by then. If anything big is discovered we meet before. If you encounter anything suspicious, think you’re being watched, followed, in trouble, please call for back up. This is not a time to be heroes.”

With another round of agreement, the group broke up.

++++++

Peter helped John upstairs to bed so he could take a moment to drain the elder man’s pain. He hadn’t missed the grimace when he’d stood. He then went back to close the house up for the night, despite the wards and barriers he knew Stiles would have already erected.

He found his mate on the sofa in the living room, in the dark. He moved to sit beside him. After a moment Stiles tilted, dropping his head onto Peter’s shoulder. Peter shifted to get his arm around his lover to bring him closer.

“You’re worried.” Again, it wasn’t something Peter needed to ask.

“You, Dad, Derek, Lydia, Scott, Allison, even Isaac and now Parrish.”

“And you,” Peter added quietly. “We’re not losing anyone, dear.”

“You’ve asked Josh?” he turned his head, and his eyes glistened up at Peter.

“He’ll see what he can find that he hasn’t already found out about Gideon Pierce.”

Stiles frowned. “What?” Peter asked him, sensing more than sighting his unease.

“I don’t know, and that’s part of my problem. There’s something about that man, that just . . . uhggg,” he finished with a harsh sound that he couldn’t quite put into words. “When he shook my hand something happened. I’m not sure what, but it was like something clicked. Damn, I’m not explaining this well.”

Peter rumbled and drew him closer. “Clicked how?”

“It was like I knew him somehow, but I know I don’t.” Stiles petered off and sighed.

“I’m more concerned with his fixation on you, and he is fixated on you. I was almost coming off him in waves. Do you think he could have placed a spell on you somehow? Even with your barriers up?”

It didn’t surprise Stiles that Peter realised he would have erected barriers for them both. “I would have felt it if he’d tired something, I know it. But there’s something about him that made my Spark react.”

“Should I be worried, love?” Peter asked slowly, softly, that feeling of unease returning. The only man Stiles’ Spark had ever reacted to was his mate, Peter.

“Of course not. You’re the only one I’m interested in. Besides, he’s not my type, too old, too much muscle.”

Peter scoffed. “I just don’t like the . . . the familiarity – for lack of a better word – in his eyes when he looks at you. As if he knows something or expects something or is waiting for something.”

Stiles sat up, and Peter’s arm fell across his lower back to his left hip, but Stiles didn’t move out of his cushy circle of Peter warmth.

“I don’t know what to make of it either. Jeez, by the time we’re done here I swear I’m banning the words ‘I don’t know’ from our vocab for at least three months.” He felt Peter’s frame shake with a dry chuckle. His mate knew how much he hated not knowing.

Later as Stiles lay sprawled against him, Peter’s scent all over him, the wolf himself acknowledged not just his unease, but something resembling jealous possession growing within him. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Stiles and thought for even a moment that Stiles would not be faithful to what they had together or til death parted them, it was that his Spark had reacted to Gideon. That more than anything gave Peter pause.

He was never letting Stiles alone with that man, ever. He kissed his mates forehead as he made the promise to himself. Gideon was trouble wrapped in an unknown, attractive and deadly package.

++++++

Peter rolled over in bed, pretty sure in his mind that he would have felt his mate if he’d awoken before he did, but apparently not. This was the first time he could ever remember being unaware of Stiles leaving their bed. He listened sharply and picked up his rapid heartbeat somewhere downstairs.

Glancing at the clock, Peter noted it was just gone 5:17 a.m. _What the hell was Stiles doing up?_

He found his mate sitting at the kitchen table, munching on a bag of microwave popcorn, with their laptop in front of him. When they travelled together they always took one laptop and a tablet and took turns on who used which. Usually, Peter took control of the laptop and Stiles was more comfortable using the tablet.

“Hey,” Stiles looked up and the smile on his face was just a tad crooked as he watched Peter step into the room, barefooted, and walked up to smack a kiss against his temple.

Peter pulled out a chair and sat, just watching Stiles, whose heartbeat had skipped the moment he’d seen Peter. _Something was wrong. Something was very wrong._ He waited.

Stiles swallowed a mouth of popcorn and raised the soda to his head, returning his eyes to the computer as his face began to colour. “Josh sent you some files on Gideon and the Fathers of Pagan Hearts.”

Peter just raised a brow and waited, a sour feeling in his stomach.

“I was trying to find out more about him, and – and – about the coven. Most of the information is pretty basic. Josh says he’s still digging.” Stiles paused, knowing he was beginning to ramble and swallowed the bile that rose suddenly to his throat. He closed his eyes. _He had to tell him. He couldn’t not tell him._ He knew without a doubt that the following words would hurt his mate. But they never lied to each other, ever.

So he dropped his hands to his lap, eyes on the traitorous limbs as if they were responsible for what was to follow as he confessed, “I dreamt about him . . . Gideon.”

Peter’s eyes went Alpha red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So is Stiles dreaming about the enemy? Is there an unknown attraction or something more dastardly at play? And how will Peter respond? I will try to add an update before Christmas Day, but not sure how the schedule will be after that for two updates per week. But promise to stick to my regular Sundays (with Christmas Day being the exception).


	7. I Don't Believe In Coincidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are just too many coincidences in this case and nothing seems to be what it appears to be. Plus, why’s he dreaming about Gideon Pierce? And how does he explain something he doesn’t understand to Peter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there are some theories that the coven killed our three hapless victims and that the mysterious wind dude is somehow linked to the coven and that Gideon wants to steal Stiles’ Spark, but hmmm, well nothing is as clear cut as it seems. Please enjoy.

He wanted to bay at the quickly vanishing moon; to bathe in Gideon Pierce’s blood; to howl in agony but he knew he couldn’t. He knew Stiles had done nothing wrong, but still it felt like betrayal. In the more than two years they had been together – two years that felt like a lifetime – Stiles had never mentioned dreaming of someone else. Peter knew his actions would determine how they dealt with this, whatever _this_ was.

“Sexual?” he asked and it hurt to ask. _God, how it hurt to ask._

Stiles, whose eyes had yet to lift from his hands, merely nodded and even that made his head feel heavy, his neck feel like lead. Peter tried to control his shift, but his claws peeked out and it took everything in him to drag them back.

“Look at me.” Stiles shook his head and the first tear rolled down his cheek. The single streak of water, like nothing else could have done, brought Peter back from the teetering edge. “Darling, look at me.”

It was the endearment and the soft entreaty with it that forced Stiles to finally raise his head. There was such guilt in his eyes that Peter could smell and almost taste it. He reached out a hand and cupped his mate’s cheek, brushing away the tear with a finger and wiping at the next that was about to follow a similar trail.

“I love you. I will always love you, and I know you love me. This dream, or whatever it was, doesn’t change that. Whatever it is he’s done to you, we will figure it out. I promise, my love. I know you. I know every inch of you and I know what’s in here,” he tapped a finger against his chest, “and in here,” he tapped his temple. “And I know if you’re now having dreams about this witch, after just one meeting with him there’s a reason. There’s always a reason for everything with you and I don’t for a minute believe it’s because you’re attracted in any way to this man.”

Stiles exhaled in a rush and reached out to Peter who dragged him into his arms. “I woke up in cold sweat and so scared. I don’t understand Peter. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Tell me about this dream.”

“At first I thought I was in bed with you, but there was something different about the body, about both our bodies. Then the hand felt different too, more callused and thicker somehow. I turned and saw his face, but the hands, my hands touching him didn’t seem like mine. I tried to wake up but couldn’t. I don’t know how to explain this. There were freckles on my hand that I know aren’t there now when I look at myself, and the hands they looked slimmer than mine, softer. Then the door burst open and that’s when I woke up. I was surprised it hadn’t woken you.”

“Me too, to be honest. I don’t like the sound of any of this. I think it’s time to call Irena. If there’s something happening to your Spark she’ll know what it is.”

Stiles nodded and exhaled again, calming the shaking in his limbs. He’d been reduced to a shaking mess too many times in the few days they’d been here and he didn’t like it one bit. “Why the fuck did we come to Beacon Hills again?”

Peter smiled wryly, though a part of him was still weighed by Stiles’ confession. “Because your dad is here and he needed us. And when family calls we answer. Or have you forgotten your mantra.” He grinned at the pale, mole dotted man in his lap, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, right,” Stiles licked his lips, revelling in the taste that was distinctly Peter. “Right now it doesn’t feel like enough justification,” he frowned.

“And I thought I was the pessimist in this relationship.”

“Oh you are. Just let me wallow a little.” Stiles looked in his eyes, face serious. “Take me to bed? Make love to me? I need to not see him in my head right now.”

Peter curled a hand around his mate’s neck and brought their mouths together in a clash of lips and teeth and need. He felt the urge to mark, to brand and he knew Stiles understood. He would take his time and take his mate apart and then put him back together again. He just prayed they wouldn’t disturb John.

He also prayed it would be enough.

++++++

Gideon awoke aroused and disgusted with himself.

_No, this was not what he wanted. It could never be this. It was wrong._

He took to the mat in front of the burning black candle and started to chant. He needed to bring some equilibrium back to his circle. It had started as a dream. She’d been as beautiful as he remembered, her hair, eyes, even her skin, but then the dream had morphed into something else and it was that that woke him, that moment when he saw Stiles’ face superimposed over the one he was holding. It was the last thing he had expected to interrupt his memory and wasn’t what he wanted from the young man. _Never that._

He wondered where the taint had come. Maybe it was the eyes, the eyes that near burned a hole in his soul the first time he’d seen them again. He wanted to rub his skin raw and when a half-hour of calling on the Fathers didn’t settle his restless spirit, he stripped and headed for the showers, turning the water to the hottest he could stand.

Hands pressed against the smooth black tiles, he closed his eyes and let the water sluice over his scarred back. He no longer had feeling there. The skin was now merely a covering, the nerves long dead, but he didn’t mind. It was a sacrifice and one he had no choice but to bear.

This would not derail him. Stiles would come to him before this was done. When he understood what they were to each other, nothing would stop it.

He’d yet to figure out what to do about the Sheriff or the wolf, because he knew they would not let go without a fight.

++++++

John eased up out of the bed when his phone buzzed. After Peter had helped with the painful ribs the previous evening, he’d gone to bed tired, fully intending to sleep, but Waveney had called, worried about him. She wanted to come down to Beacon Hills to see him since he clearly could not drive up to see her. He’d put off her intended visit.

He needed to have that talk with his son first. They’d started to – Stiles telling him that if he wanted to date again it was fine with him and actually encouraging him to do so, but then Lydia had arrived for them to head off for Stiles to conduct his tests and they’d promised to pick up the discussion later. He didn’t want to bring Waveney to the house until they’d had that chat. He needed to make sure his son understood that Claudia would always be with him, always in his heart. That hadn’t changed.

The Sheriff swung his feet to the floor as he read the text from Parrish. The Deputy had just arrived at the station and was checking in. The clock told him it was just about 7 a.m. He sent a response to tell his second that all was quiet on the homefront, or relatively.

He’d been awoken just before six by sounds from his son’s bedroom – sounds he really didn’t need to hear. A tap on the wall had reminded his son to put up a dampening around the room. Those were images he did not need in his head – at all.

The man slowly got out of bed and headed for the shower before dressing and heading downstairs for breakfast. The bowl on the table told him the two had probably been up late, snacking. He shook his head and dumped the rest of the popcorn into the garbage. It was good to see where his son was concerned that some things never changed.

Claudia had been a late snacker too.

++++++

Angus looked over the others. All species had gathered for the meeting and he was relieved. He’d been expecting some push back, but every one of those gathered looked just as worried as he did. And with reason.

When silence reigned, Angus cleared his throat and began. “You all know why we’re gathered here. We have a problem we need to solve and quickly.”

“How’s Ariel?”

The question momentarily staggered him and Angus paused and looked to the elf who had asked. He knew why they wanted to know, why they all wanted to know. He swallowed and shook his head. “No change.” A murmur, of concern, fear, anger and uncertainty rose above the infinity circle. The very rocks seemed to hum as the energy in the circle thrummed throughout the area hidden high above the hills of Beacon Valley.

“And the one that’s come?” Another being asked, the werefox, he thought it sounded like.

“He’s powerful. We felt it the moment he arrived,” the pixie said, fear in her voice. “Is he with them?”

“Yes, it seems that way. I caught him and the wolf he brought with him leaving the coven yesterday.”

Another round of noise rose, this time more troubled and more powerful than before.

“Please, everyone,” he called, raising calming hands, and waited for the din to settle before he spoke again. “We need to decide on our next course of action. The suppliers are dead but the threat still lives and may be even magnified now.”

“Can we kill them?” the troll asked.

That sparked another round of debate that it took some time to calm. “We don’t go around killing people, especially when the information we have is so lacking,” Delicia, the oldest Elemental said and everyone immediately stopped talking. “Can’t we get a meeting with them?”

“And give them chance to strike at us?” came a disbelieving cry from the back.

“What’s the alternative? To match our power with theirs and destroy the county? Because we all know that’s what’s going to happen if we do,” someone else called. “Beacon Hills’ and Valley’s folk have long lived in peace. This is a threat to that peace.”

“They can’t kill us all!” that sounded like the fairies.

“Really?! With Gideon Pierce at the helm and the Destroyer possibly at their back?” The circle went silent. This time the silence was a pregnant one.

“What do you know, Karl?” Angus addressed the vampire who’d spoken.

“What I know is the wolf you told us about is Peter Hale.” A murmur of recognition went through the crowd. “For those of you who don’t know the name, at one time he was the primary enforcer for the Hale Pack and Alpha Talia Hale’s younger brother. He earned the name The Destroyer in certain quarters and was both feared and respected for it. He’s not a man to be trifled with. The young one with him is his mate, you might have just started to hear his name mentioned, Red Wolf.” A louder murmur. “Yes, he’s the Spark they call Red Wolf. His real name is Stiles Stilinski, son of Claudia and John Stilinski.”

As he said the latter he looked to the oldest Elemental; like him, she would know what it meant.

“How old?” her voice shook as Delicia asked the question and he knew without a doubt that she understood.

“22 or 23, by my calculations.”

"Nooo!” the word was uttered by the woman who paled considerably. “There’s a son? And a Spark?”

Karl looked her in the eye, and it was all the response she needed from the vamp. Delicia’s base form flickered and kept flickering as a wind picked up within the circle. “That means . . . Gideon is . . .”

“Now, you understand.”

“How’d he find him? . . .”

“What? How’d who find whom?” Angus boomed, as his emotions caused him too to begin to flicker. Elementals were emotional creatures at the best of times. Dangerous at the worst.

“You knew who they were all this time and said nothing?” Cindy, the demi-demon growled at the vampire.

Angus was just as incensed. They’d been standing here for the better part of an hour trading debate back and forth on their options and the vampire had said nothing. He issued a grating sound of frustration. He should have known better than to expect the vampires to freely share what they knew when prompted.

The only beings better at hording information were the djinn and leprechauns. If you were in their good books you’d be lucky enough to get the full story on what information they chose to impart, otherwise they were locked up tighter than a gold mine. Neither of the two groups of beings were represented today and that was no surprise. Both groups were not really present in Beacon County, though events unfolding here could upset the entire supernatural community soon.

“So who’s going to start at the beginning and fill us in on why we’re really at this juncture?” Angus said, and his voice boomed across the stones as they hummed, with a powerful wind following after and everyone instantly shut up.

++++++

“You felt his touch?”

“Kinda. It was me, but at the same time it didn’t feel like me. It was like being in someone else’s body and watching as it happened and as the person responded. It could have been a dream in a dream.” Stiles was horrible at explaining this. He didn’t want to remember it and he flicked a nervous glance at Peter who was sitting in the corner of the study, head down in the computer screen reading more files from Josh and other contacts.

“Could it have been projection then?” Irena asked him. The fairy was puzzled.

“I don’t know, Irena. I’ve never felt anything like it before,” his gaze darted quickly to Peter again and he had no doubt the wolf could hear every single word of the conversation – both sides – but there was no reaction. “Should I be worried that he’s done something to my Spark? Can he do that without me knowing it?” At this Peter finally raised his head to look at him.

“That’s unlikely. You said your shields were up and neither you nor Peter detected any use of magic at the time, and unless he’s a hell of a lot more powerful and skilled in cloaking, then it’s impossible for him to have done something to your Spark without your knowledge.”

“What should I make of what I felt when I shook his hand then.”

“I’m going to have to look into that myself, because it’s not a reaction with which I’m familiar. How different is it from what happened with Peter?”

“Similar but very different. Similar in that I knew it was my Spark reacting, but different in the way the connection felt. With Peter, I knew my Spark was reaching out to him, connecting with him, but that was after we’d known each other for months. This was instant. With Peter I knew it recognised our connection and accepted it, with Gideon Pierce it was like . . . it was like when we first met, you and I and your aura brushed mine, but more intense.”

Irena paused for a while. Stiles could almost hear the fairy’s mind ticking over. “What do we know about this witch? What has Peter found.”

The wolf got up from his place in the corner and came near. “Not enough, Irena.” Though it wasn’t necessary Stiles turned on the phone’s speaker. Peter continued, “The coven itself is old, but there’s not much on Gideon Pierce. It seemed he appeared out of nowhere about four years ago and took over the leadership of the coven which had been slowly fading by then. He brought the chapter back to life but there’s very little on where he came from or who he is. Suspiciously little.”

“Send me what you have Peter, let me do some digging myself. I have connections in America you might not have access to in your circles. Let me see what I can find. In the meantime, I would try to avoid further contact with this man until we know more.

“Stiles, honey, if you keep having these dreams document them for me. Everything you can remember when you wake, write it down. Let me ask some questions of those who might know more than even _I_ do. I’ve never heard of this. From what you’ve already said, it seems to me there’s some link between you and this man, but the nature of it, I’m uncertain. I’ll try to be quick about what I can find.”

“Thank you, Irena,” Peter said, sincerely.

“Anytime dear. Take care of each other . . . Oh, and on another matter, Peter, please tell Das the next time he gets drunk with one of my girls I’ll do more than have Gray toss him in the slammer to sleep it off. Final warning.”

The Fairy Queen hung up, and Peter rubbed his forehead. His beta just did not know how to stay away from the ladies. He’d have to reel his wolfy ass in when he got the chance.

“What now?” Stiles asked in a soft voice.

Peter reached down and pulled him to his feet and into his arms, circling his waist and holding tight. “Now we continue to do what we’ve been doing, figuring out this damn puzzle that’s been dropped in our lap, and keeping you away from those witches until we know really what it is they want.”

++++++

When the phone rang, John lifted the receiver to his ear, being the one closest to the phone then. “Hello?”

“John, it’s Jordan. Stiles or Peter around?”

“Yeah, hang on Parrish.”

John called out to Peter. Whatever they’d been sequestered in the study about all morning was undoubtedly important. They hadn’t shared anything with John yet, but he knew they would when they felt it important enough to do so or when they had something to report.

Peter took the receiver from him and told him who was on the line. “Hey, Deputy Parrish.”

Jordan chuckled. “Jordan’s fine, Peter. Listen, Deputy Ellis just got a call from Gideon Pierce, asking to get hold of Stiles. Said he had some information that Stiles had requested from him. I didn’t think we should give him your number so he left a cell number so Stiles could get in touch with him. You want to take it down?”

“Yeah.” Peter grimaced but reached out and took the pen and sticky note from the nearby table. “Shoot.”

Jordan gave him the number. “I don’t know what to make of it given your concerns about the coven but thought I should pass it on.”

“Thanks Jordan.”

“Anytime. See you guys tonight.” The Deputy hung up.

He turned to see father and son watching him. “We got a message from Pierce. He wants you to call. Said he found something.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” John asked, eyes darting between his son and Peter. He didn’t know everything, but he knew this man made his son and Peter nervous and that was reason enough to worry.

“No, but I think we have to hear what he has. See if it’s worth anything or just misdirection,” Peter justified and Stiles nodded in agreement.

Peter took out his own cell and dialed, walking back into the study. John followed.

++++++

Jordan pulled up the email. He’d spent most of the morning tracking down a former work colleague of April Calgary’s. After the man hung up on him twice, he’d called a colleague from the Boston PD that he’d met at a law enforcement conference a year ago. He’d outlined the bare bones and painted a picture of a mysterious woman who seemed got herself caught up in something suspicious and ended up dead for her trouble. His colleague, who was currently doing paper work, more than welcomed the chance to get out of it and help a fellow officer out.

Bryce had called him back after he’d interviewed the reluctant colleague and learnt that April Calgary actually had a degree in Micro-Biology and that university was where she had apparently met Hal Franklyn and the two ended up together at Federickson Laboratories. At one point they were lab partners, but Calgary got fired for using the equipment and chemicals in the lab for her own side projects and unsanctioned experiments. Seems she pictured herself the female version of Louis Pasteur and had been experimenting with viruses, but in plant matter.

Her excuse was that she was testing the germ resistance of crops. Her employers didn’t believe her and she was sent packing. Suspicion and more research by the Labs later sent Franklyn following after her with his own pink slip. He’d been a willing participant in the experiments. Calgary had held a couple of odd jobs since then but nothing science- or plant-related.

Jordan looked at the email he’d been reading. It seems the bank records showed some deposits that were incongruous with the odd jobs she was doing, but the trace Beacon Valley had put on the money had led to dead ends and shell corporations. Two of the organisations listed though had turned up in their own financial search on Franklyn.

While the background was shaping up, it was still a far cry from why they were murdered or by whom. Jordan continued digging and hoped the McCall or Hale packs were having better luck narrowing shit down.

++++++

“Peter Hale for Gideon Pierce.” Peter said when the phone was picked up. Although it was a cell number, it wasn’t Gideon that answered. He’d been on hold less than 30 seconds when he heard Gideon’s voice.

“Alpha Hale, good to hear you. I trust Spark Stilinski is near?”

His continued use of their supernatural designations bothered Peter, considerably. “Just Peter and Stiles is fine. What did you find, Mr. Pierce,” he said, neither confirming nor denying that Stiles was listening.

“I have a list of plants to email to you that our coven members have purchased over the past few years. According to the members, they had nothing but good things to say about the species and certainly no problems. Most of them at least. We had one complaint from one of our members, who said one of his purchases tainted the potion he was working on, but it wasn’t a big deal, he was able to find a replacement. I’m nevertheless having him bring the plant he found fault with into the quarters tonight ahead of our Akelarre.”

“You’re meeting tonight?” Stiles spoke up before he caught himself, and Peter frowned when he heard the distinctive smile in Gideon’s voice.

“Stiles!” the man’s voice picked up a notch, the pleasure clear to hear. “Yes, we meet tonight. You are more than welcome to join us, or just to come pick the plants up. I think Alan said he had a few samples, if you think they will help your investigation. In case you’re wondering, Alan was out of state when the three suppliers were killed and I confirmed that myself, so its unlikely he’s connected, though he did say he’d encountered a strange individual leaving Hal’s greenhouse the last time he visited. Whenever you’re ready to pick the samples up I’ll be here. Hope to see you soon.” Gideon didn’t wait for a response, or question to anything he’d said, simply hung up.

“You’re not going anywhere near that man,” Peter growled.

“Never said I would,” Stiles met the challenge in his mate’s eyes head on.

“What the hell is the deal with this guy anyway,” John asked, also disturbed by something about the call that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Peter turned the laptop he’d been using earlier toward John. “Meet Gideon Pierce, head of the Fathers of Pagan Hearts Coven in Beacon Valley.”

John reached out and took the laptop, still frowning at the screen. He started to scroll through the information before clicking on one of the photo attachments. When it opened John went pale. Peter noticed the skip in his heartbeat first and turned to the Sheriff, only to watch the man gasp for breath.

“John?” Peter said, puzzled and worried.

“Dad?!”

“That isn’t . . . that’s not Gideon Pierce,” the increasingly pale Sheriff whispered. “That’s Fenris Davenport.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t kill me for the semi-cliffy. I’m already plotting away on Chapter 8. I must say I’ve got that juicy feeling in my stomach that I get when a story is coming together in surprising ways. This baby certainly is more than I expected when I started her. Gimme your feedback. I love the theories and comments.


	8. What Aren't You Telling Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff realises family secrets may be coming back to haunt him, and furthermore that they may hurt the one person he loves most, while Peter struggles with a suddenly unstable mate and Lydia has a revealing argument with Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John apparently knows more about the strangers than he thought, and it’s not good. I know a few of you’ve already commented so you know what’s coming. 
> 
> Also Jilrene, although you deleted the suggestion, I heard you loud and clear and yeah, your fantasy suggestion does work. So folk I’ve added a new relationship tag. Thanks oodles and bunches for the inspiration.
> 
> This is the last pre-Christmas Day update and it's a long-ish one. Happy Holidays!!!

“Dad? What are you talking about?” Stiles knew he was shouting but he couldn’t help it, and Peter rest a hand on his arm when his father’s feet gave out from beneath him and he collapsed back into a chair.

The fear and pain in his father’s eyes wasn’t something Stiles ever thought he’d see again. This was the look that had driven his father to the bottle after mom. This was the look of a man suddenly thirsting for that which he gave up; a man on the edge of sobriety. It was all too fast. _What could drive his dad to this point in the space of little more than a minute?_

“Oh God,” John whispered. He looked up at the two men not knowing where to start. “Peter, can you get me a glass of water, please?”

“’Course, John.” He squeezed Stiles’ hand before he let go of him, hoping that the gesture conveyed all that he wanted to but couldn’t say – _please be patient_ ; _please hear him out_ ; _please don’t be rash_ ; _please stay in control, whatever he has to say_.

Stiles collapsed onto the poof a few metres from where his dad sat. John was still staring at the screen like he was seeing his own ghost.

And Stiles started to shiver.

++++++

“You don’t always have to be a Neanderthal, you know?” Lydia huffed, angry. “I could have handled that guy easily. Now he won’t even entertain us, let alone talk to us!” The only reason she wasn’t yelling was because it was beneath her to yell, and because the two officers who’d responded to the disturbance were still giving them the funny eye. Sheriff Coulthrust had arrived just minutes before and smoothed everything over once she realised they were working with the Sheriff. Lydia supposed there might be some hard feelings by the local cops though to realise they were conducting unofficial investigations of their own.

“He slapped your ass.” Derek said dryly, like it was all the explanation in the world. _Which, nuh-uh! Because right, he still thought like a Neanderthal._

“And it wasn’t a big deal. I had it handled. Small price to pay for the information he could have given us, and then I would have laid his ass out. But no, big tough guy to the rescue and now we have nothing, the local boys are still looking for an excuse to haul us in for questioning and I’m sure we will never be allowed in this bar again.”

Derek rounded on her, eyes flashing momentarily before he put a strangle-hold on his emotions, “So I should have just let him assault you and done nothing? That guy was twice your size.”

“And breaking his nose and possibly his jaw did what, Derek?” her voice was climbing, and she darted a look over his shoulder again. _No, she refused to become that screechy, complaining, dramatic chick._ She took a deep breath and asked calmly, as if talking to a five-year-old, “Other than almost cause yourself to get arrested again, what did we accomplish here today?”

“Right, next time I’ll stay in the car and let you do what you wish,” he growled, turning away from her.

She reached out and grasped his arm spinning him back toward her as he growled louder at the brazen action. “What is your issue with me anyway? You never treated Erica like this. If this was her you would have sat back, sipped your drink and let her flatten that fucking guy. What’s so different about me?!”

“What’s so different about you? You?! You break a nail in there,” his hands flared in the direction of the establishment, “and ruin your precious manicure and we’ll be hearing about it all week, while you sashay around in your Birkin, Christian Louboutin shoes and Marc Jacobs outfits,” Derek scoffed.

The yell that was on the tip of Lydia’s lips, mouth already open forming her scathing reply when it died in her throat. “Versace, actually,” she found herself remarking in a puzzled voice. “No self-respecting woman would pair Marc Jacobs with Louboutins and a Birkin.” She stared at the Hale wolf like she was seeing him for the first time, as Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head at her. When he realised she was still staring, looking for all the world like she wanted to say something but didn’t know what, Derek shifted uncomfortably. “Since when are you paying such close attention to what I wear that you even know the designers’ names?”

Derek’s eyes popped wide, mouth fell open, but nothing came out and the wolf snapped his lips closed and walked away, feeling the banshee’s attentive, questioning eyes boring holes into his back the whole way to the car.

++++++

Gideon sat back in the chair and braced his feet, crossed at the ankles across a corner of his desk, eyes far in the distance. The memories had been plaguing him since last night’s dreams and now would not leave him alone.

He’d held back the panic when he’d been told about the attack on the car the Sheriff, Stiles and the wolf had been travelling in back to Beacon Hills. Had done some scrying to make sure everyone was alive after Mannock had reported back. He could admit now to himself that his lashing out at his apprentice had been a rash move because of his fear over the entire situation. Stiles being in that position was not acceptable, although he should have known better than to believe the boy would not have been successful in protecting himself and his _family_. Every step of the way the young man continued to impress him, even exceeding his expectations. He was truly Claudia’s son – spunk and chutzpah to back it up.

He’d known Stiles was in the room when the wolf had returned his call and he now surmised that perhaps they were clued in to the fact that the young man himself was his real interest. _It didn’t matter though._ Even if they’d found out by now, the questions alone would drive Stiles right to him. He was curious by nature. Gideon smiled knowing how very alike they were. _Yup, the curiosity alone would do it._ If they were as alike as he believed them to be, those questions would bring him, for sure.

And Gideon would be ready. _He’d been waiting a long time for this moment. The Spark would be his soon and the things they'd do together.  
_

He was almost salivating.

++++++

“We have to do something!” Angus roared, as his emotions kicked the wind into action. The others in the circle hid their faces as dirt, grass, twigs and other pieces of detritus scattered around the clearing got carried in the wind.

“Angus, settle yourself please!” Delicia called. “We must remain calm.”

“Calm, remain calm. You just told us our enemy is even more powerful than we thought, and furthermore that he has more than enough reason to want us dead. What’s to stop the Spark from joining him now? Once he finds out, we’re all doomed.” A pixie said, scared out of her mind.

“There was nothing we could have done differently.”

“Because we failed to get involved,” Karl commented.

“We couldn’t. It wasn’t our fight. It was domestic.” Delicia commented. She’d been relieved at the revival of the coven that had long been dying until she’s gone herself to meet the new head of the witches. When she found out it was Fenris, now calling himself Gideon, she was more than a little apprehensive, but nothing they’d done then had put them on anyone’s radar. Until Ariel. They’d had no clue until Ariel.

“Do we know anything about what the plants did?”

“No, all I know is that they gave him power, more power than he already had,” Angus responded. “His exact abilities now we can’t get a read on without venturing into that Coven. He never leaves that place.”

“Then our only choice is the Destroyer. We need to meet with him immediately on neutral ground and hope that our fears are unfounded and they are not in league with that demon of a witch,” Delicia said, thought it looked like it pained her to consider the option.

++++++

“Who is he dad?”

John swallowed. _He’d known. Somehow he’d always known it would come to this point._ He felt the loss of his wife more acutely than at any time previously.

He leaned forward and clasped Stiles’ hands in his. “Son, I need you to understand, to know, that I’ve loved you my whole life. From the moment your mother gave birth to you and laid you in my arms, to this very moment right now – even when I wasn’t as sober as I should have been, nothing in my life has been as important as you are to me. I love you with everything in me.”

Suddenly, Stiles was scared. Suddenly he was feeling very much like he didn’t want his dad to continue. He wanted to put childish hands over his ears and start humming. He turned turbulent eyes to Peter who was standing in the doorway with the glass of water his father had requested. He knew Peter could hear the rabbit scared beating of his heart and that it was likely his dad’s was beating the same mad rhythm.

He didn’t realise he was rising from the stool until he was almost on his feet and John pulled him back to sit.

_He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to hear this. He shouldn’t hear this. Couldn’t hear this!_

“He’s your biological father, Stiles.”

The glass in Peter’s hand shattered, as did every window in the study, including the light fixture above them as Stiles exploded out of the seat and the room upended. The pale young man rushed to the nearby bathroom to be ill.

++++++

John sat still as the tears coursed down his cheeks. The eyes that he turned to Peter before the wolf turned to follow his mate were pained like nothing Peter had ever seen.

Peter brushed bits of glass from his hand as the cuts there started to mend immediately. He pushed open the bathroom door and closed it behind him, moving to kneel beside Stiles who was losing every bit of his lunch and what also looked like his breakfast too down the toilet bowl. When he was done vomiting the sounds of his continued retching was painful on Peter’s ears, especially as he had nothing left to lose from his stomach.

Peter rose to the sink to catch a glass full of water and handed it to the shaking Spark, helping him to lift it to his flushed face over very pale, clammy skin. Stiles rinsed his mouth and then gulped a mouthful of water, attempting to soothe his rather raw throat, as Peter depressed the lever to flush the toilet bowl contents. Stiles collapsed beside the bowl like a puppet. Peter sat in front of him, not sure how to touch him right now.

Stiles looked at him broken, in agony. “He lied to me. They both did.”

Peter knew he was referring to his mother, whose memory was now tainted with the omission, plus knowing his mate, the real upset would have been trying to come to terms with what he’d just been told in light of his upsetting dream last night. That, without a doubt, was what would have led him to be ill. Peter just sat and watched him in commiseration, keeping a keen ear on John in the nearby room as well.

Stiles wasn’t sure what to do with all this knowledge. The thought that he’d dreamt like that involving a man whose genes he carried almost caused him to start throwing up again. _How could they never have told him?_

++++++

Peter was exhausted. He’d just got off the phone to Braeden who’d called in a panic. The fox, kitsune and Das should be in Beacon Hills within the hour. Roman, Peter’s Second, would hold down the fort for now, but the Alpha knew he’d be checking in often. Irena would see his pack members teleported safely, given the emergency at hand. The Queen was also sending one of her own trusted healers to stabilise the Spark, while she continued to try to find answers to too many questions.

He had helped John to his room as well, promising the man that if Stiles asked for him he would get him immediately, whether he was asleep or not, although they both knew there was no way the Sheriff would or could sleep now.

Stiles was curled up in their bed, blankets drawn over his head, shaking. Focussing on the calls he had to make was all Peter could do to remain standing amid the pain resonating through their bond. He had so many questions, _so many_.

He dialed Scott.

++++++

Scott hung up the phone and stared into space. _It couldn’t be true. Could it?_ _But Peter wouldn’t lie, would he?_ And the sound of Peter’s voice over the phone had almost caused him to panic that something horrible had happened even before the man laid out what was happening.

 _How could John not be Stiles’ dad? It wasn’t possible._ Yet it seemed that that might be the case.

“Isaac?” He turned to find his beta already standing behind him, as he texted Allison’s number. She had gone in to the newspaper where she worked part-time and was using her time there to dig into the archives for anything she could find, as instructed by the Sheriff.

Scott and Isaac had just returned from Hal Franklyn’s house, digging carefully through everything once again, and talking with some of his friends and a few of his clients. They had more than the police had managed to put together on the man, especially from his less than human clients, but still nothing to indicate who’d done the deed. _Now this!_

He’d felt the surge of power and had been just about to check in with Jordan on whether anyone had reported anything strange, when his phone had rung with Peter on the line.

“That sounded like Peter Hale,” Isaac said, carefully watching Scott’s face.

“Something’s come up and I need to head over there. Can you pick up Ally and meet me at the Sheriff’s? I think the shit just hit the fan over there.”

“Sure, of course. It’s Stiles, isn’t it? Whatever’s happened is him? I felt it.”

‘Yeah, and it’s not good. But get Ally. I’ll contact Lydia and Derek.”

Isaac, thankfully, stopped the questions, just nodded and proceeded to leave on his assigned errand.

++++++

“What the hell was that?” Lydia asked, eyes wide.

Derek swallowed and looked equally stunned, their previous argument temporarily put on hold. It felt like the earth had shook, but it was a pulse felt deep within, unlike any tremor they’d ever heard of.

Lydia swiped her phone screen, about to call in when she saw the text from Scott drop into her phone. The same time Derek’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “I guess we’ve been summoned. Let’s go.”

Lydia slid into the seat of the Camaro, purposely tucking her legs in last in the most dainty fashion she could manage and carefully buckling her seatbelt. Derek, realising exactly what she was doing, exhaled roughly but refused to comment – revving the engine to life and peeling out of the parking lot after checking his own message.

The trip was made in silence, both occupants deep in thought on very different things. Lydia was nervous about what could be wrong at the Stilinski residence and fearing it was nothing good. Derek was very conscious of the woman sitting next to him, whose gentle scent was wrapping around his senses like a siren’s call. He’d noticed it before of course and it always made him angry.

She was so smart but so conceited about her looks and it annoyed him that she thought it was who she had to be because he knew she could be so much more. The frivolity that surrounded her and that she allowed herself to wallow in was maddening. The only way to get a rise out of her was when he deliberately ignored her or treated her like the Barbie doll she liked to pretend to be. It always resulted in staring contests that she ended up conceding to him. He was master of the stare down and she knew it.

The only time she showed her true self was around Stiles Stilinski. Again, that was maddening. But the fact that he’d returned with a mate meant that what was between them no longer held the longing of unrequited love, but was blossoming into a true friendship.

She was the kind of woman he knew to stay away from. His relationships with women never ended well -- never! And she was one regret he did not need. So he told his wolf to shut the hell up and sped on to the Stilinski home.

++++++

He was infuriating. She thought perhaps he did it purposely, to watch her blow her cool and then make her seem like the irrational one.

For the longest time she’d thought he hated her because he shunned her whenever he could; ignored her whenever he could, and laced his responses to any question she asked with anger or tightly leashed civility, so she’d avoided him. She’d thought perhaps it was an Allison thing, because of course he had reason to resent the Argents and stay far from anyone associated with the family and Lydia was certainly a close associate.

But now, this incident had her thinking something else was afoot. Derek taking note of what she wore was new. It was something of note and she wondered what it noted. She had no clue and she dared not guess. He wasn’t a man easy to figure out. Not by a mile.

Lydia shook herself. She could wonder and worry and fret about this all later. Now she was worried about her friend. Something had happened with Stiles and they couldn’t get there fast enough. They were still a good 15 minutes away from Beacon Hills . . . maybe eight to 10 at the pace Derek was racing over the road from Beacon Valley.

++++++

Gideon sat up in his office when he felt the swell of power. Seconds later his door burst open and three of his members rushed in with wide eyes, babbling at him, but he was too enraptured with the echoes of what he was feeling.

He smiled, and then began to laugh - long and loud. It silenced those before him and two took a startled, quick step back from his desk, alarm on their faces.

 _And so he began_ , he thought darkly.

++++++

Stiles exhausted himself with worry and tears, but still sleep refused to envelope him in the cocoon of peace he needed. The bed dipped and he felt a hand run through his hair. _Kira! Kira was here!_ She was the only one other than Peter who was this gentle and intimate with him.

Sure they had their puppy piles and pack bonding sessions, and Stiles was very close to every member of their pack in different ways. Kira was like his little sister. They’d been through a lot together from the time they discovered her, cowering in the wood, staring in fear at her own hands and the charred bodies of the hunters who’d been chasing her for hours and afraid of herself and what she was able to do. She’d reminded him of himself, as scared and out of control as she had been then, and unsure who to trust, since it was her best friend who’d turned on her for profit. Kira was also perhaps the pack member to whom he was closest.

As she sat on his bed, running her hands through the little bit of his hair that wasn’t under covers, he felt a little of the anxiety leach out of him. Pulling the blankets down, he saw Peter standing in the doorway, hands folded as he leaned against the door jam. He knew his mate was worried and he could feel the frustration, the hurt and uncertainty in their bond, but he was in so much pain himself there was little they could do to soothe each other. Braeden and Das stood beyond Peter’s shoulder.

Another woman, pale of skin and with platinum white hair stepped into the room and smiled serenely at him. _Victoria_. Irena had sent him Victoria – his lovely Tori. He nodded to his pack members, tentatively smiled at the fairy that would do everything in her power to even out the flares from his Spark, and Peter sighed, reached over and pulled the door close, leaving him with Kira and Tori.

They both felt the longing they had for each other as well as the uncertainty about how to handle the situation before them. Left to Peter they would have sat in that destroyed study and hammered everything out, but Stiles was the thinker. Always the one to ponder over things before he reacted. Peter knew it stemmed from his mate’s memories of the first time he’d loss control of his Spark with the McCall Pack.

The Alpha, the wolf in him felt he should be doing something to help his mate. The man knew he could only wait. So he turned away to deal with the wreckage that was study, and with the McCall Pack. He felt the moment Alpha Scott arrived. Peter was not looking forward to the next few hours. Das stepped forward and scented his Alpha. Braeden ran a hand up his back as she felt his unease. Both trying to relieve what right now could not easily be alleviated.

“You want me to call the others?” his beta asked him quietly.

Peter shook his head and squeezed Das’ shoulder. “I’ll do it. I think right now it will feel and sound better coming from me. Plus you know Ramon will accept nothing less. Brae, check on John for me, make sure he’s resting or if not at least that he’s comfortable and not in any more physical pain? Das, take the study. See what you can do to clear away the wreckage and what can be salvaged.”

Both pack members acknowledged the requests and headed off to do their Alpha’s bidding – Das to the pointed storage closet for a bag and broom; Braeden to the door where the only other heartbeat in the house was pounding from. She knocked before easing the door open and slipping inside.

++++++

John looked up at the dark-skinned woman as she perched on a chair at his bedside, and he shifted so his back was against the bed head. Peter had put it there earlier as they’d sat chatting for a brief bit before the man had returned to Stiles’ side. But John knew this woman. They’d shared teasing comments across Skype a couple times when she’d been home when he called his son.

His son. God he hadn’t meant to hurt his son, and dammit, Stiles was his son in every damn way that mattered. They’d just never been a right time to tell him, especially after Claudia’s death. They’d both been reeling then, him even more loss than Stiles. But then when he’d gotten back on his feet again it had never been important, after all Fenris was dead, or at least that’s what he’d been told. That the maniac was gone and his son was safe. _Had Claudia lied to him?_ He hated the suspicion that arose now about what he’d been told and hated himself for not asking more questions. He was a cop dammit, he should have done his own investigation, but Claudia was so anxious for it all to be over, so he’d left well enough alone.

He shouldn’t have, because Fenris was back and that never meant anything good. It hadn’t when Claudia had escaped him before, and it didn’t now.

“Hello, Mr. Stilinski,” Braeden said softly, rousing him out of his self-recriminations.

“Hi, Braeden,” he tried to smile at the fox and failed. “You look considerably better than last time I saw you.”

Braeden grinned, a wild toothy smile that would have looked feral on anyone else. “Yeah, well, hazard of the job I suppose.”

John gave her a wry look, narrowing his gaze at the mention of her ‘job’. It cast him back to the argument he and Stiles had had about what Braeden did for a living. Her mercenary credentials had never sat well with John, but now he was wondering if he wasn’t just a bit more grateful that she was here, because if Fenris was involved in the deaths of these three people and he’d even attempted to kill them already, he didn’t know that anything but violence would work this time either.

It puzzled him though, that the witch would have tried to kill them before and then appear so passive when Peter and Stiles visited. That was not the Fenris . . . Gideon or what the hell ever he was calling himself these days, that John was familiar with. He’d have to make sure the blasted man stayed dead the next time.

++++++

“Scott!” Derek’s no-nonsense yell was what pulled his Alpha back, because by the look on Peter’s face he’d had all the shit dumped on him today that he was prepared to deal with, and Derek knew in this mood he was perhaps seconds away from reminding them all why he’d been known as the Beacon Hills Destroyer. “Peter?”

The Alpha looked at his nephew, closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them the red was gone, though his breathing was hitched. Braeden and Das, who’d been shifted at his back also took the cue from their leader and eased back. “Stiles is resting. Victoria’s only just got him settled and I will not have him disturbed. He’s been through enough hell today!” Peter growled loud and reverberating.

Derek nodded, even though he had no clue what “hell” was being spoken of; but off to the right the door to the study showed its near destruction, which he could only surmise had been Stiles’ doing. “That’s fair. Is there anything we can do to help or do you have time to tell us what’s happened?” Derek eased forward to place himself closer to Allison between Scott and Peter.

Peter sighed, a long tired sound and his shoulders eased a bit more. “Might as well. Just give me a few minutes to check on John and I’ll be right down.” The Alpha turned away and climbed the steps. The move was more to settle himself and the hot, violent-thirsty blood pumping through his veins now that his mate was in no position to keep him in check, than it was a dismissal of his guests.

“Scott, what the hell?” Lydia asked, eyes wide.

When they’d stepped through the door, Isaac, of all people, was attempting to hold Scott back, while Allison looked loss as to whether to put herself between the two Alphas or help Isaac hold onto Scott. Both Alphas eyes had been blood red and the atmosphere was a sneeze away from full meltdown.

“He wouldn’t tell me where Stiles was or what had happened. I mean you felt it right?” Scott’s wide eyes pleaded for understanding. “He could have been dead for all we knew.”

“Scott. You knew Stiles wasn’t dead. Come on now,” Allison surprised with her reprimand of her mate. “You more than even I can probably hear his heartbeat somewhere in the house. You were impulsive and stupid.”

Scott whined, but Allison gave no quarter. Finally he dropped his eyes and argued, “I just wanted to know something, and he wouldn’t let me upstairs.”

“Which he had all right to do, Scott,” his Emissary added her own reproach to Allison’s. “Until you knew anything, the best approach would have been to enquire and wait. Gosh Scott! If you couldn’t wait for the rest of us to get here, at least then have enough respect for Peter’s territory so he could settle himself enough to tell you something.”

The others nodded at Lydia’s words, and Scott felt like twice the fool.

“We were almost 20 minutes out, over in Beacon Valley and we felt it. Can you imagine what Peter’s going through? What his pack is feeling? He’s got the most direct line to Stiles, so anything that Stiles feels, he probably feels just as strongly. Instead of coming in here to help, Scott you almost started a fight between our two packs,” Lydia eyed the two strangers who had retreated to the bottom of the stairs like guards, watching warily and no doubt listening to every word. “It was his right to make a decision as to what was best for his mate. You need to fix this.”

Another slight whine came from Scott, but he nodded in acceptance of the dressing down from his pack. They’d been less malleable since Erica and Boyd and stronger at making him listen to reason when one of his plan, or his actions seemed questionable. Or when he was just being stupid and pig-headed – like now.

They all turned at the sound of Peter’s and another pair of footsteps on the stairs. John was with him. As the two reached the bottom and the Hale pack parted like the Red Sea, Scott stepped forward and inclined his head to Peter. “I apologise for my actions. It was uncalled for and not in keeping with the relationship we’ve been building between our two packs. I will try not to have a repeat, but Stiles is important to me, to us as well. Please accept my humble apologies.”

Peter nodded, and reached over to pat Scott on the shoulder. It was the first time he’d touched the younger man in any way other than formal Alpha to Alpha. “We’re all stretched thin right now, but we can’t be jumping at each other like that, not now when Stiles is going to need us all.” There were nods all around. Peter took a steadying breath. “I called you all here because we have some new information. There’s just one person missing and I think that’s his jeep I just heard.” Peter said as Deputy Parrish pushed open the door.

He was sweaty and a bit flushed. “Sorry, I was dealing with a few panicked calls and couldn’t get away. What the hell have you guys been doing? Both the supernatural and human communities felt whatever the hell that was!” Jordan said, face troubled. He was often the wrangler between the two communities in Beacon Hills, though the humans were still largely unaware of their more gifted neighbours. “We’ve been making excuses about wind shift, and tectonic plates for the last half hour. Our only saving grace is that no one so far has called us on our bullshit. What the hell is going on?”

“What it was, was Stiles. We had an . . . episode which is why I called you all here.” Peter explained. “We’ve received some information on Gideon that’s pertinent to everyone involved.”

“What Peter’s trying to be delicate about is the fact that the man you all know and who has been calling himself Gideon Pierce is actually a powerful witch by the name of Fenris Davenport. And he’s also Stiles’ biological father.”

At the reveal the Stilinski house erupted into chaos, because just then there was a knock on the door. One that barely registered to the occupants inside.

Hearing the commotion, Angus, Karl and Delicia hoped they weren’t already too late.

++++++

At the explosive voices downstairs, Tori left his side promising to return shortly. The fairy and kitsune rushed downstairs, Kira was already sparking as well, not sure what was happening, but knowing Peter's emotions were running high. This kind of disruption would do nothing to calm their pack Emissary and the Alpha's mate. She was going to end the shitstorm now or they’d all have to contend with her consequences.

Stiles groaned. His friends and family would tear themselves apart about this if he didn’t get his shit together and he couldn’t, not until he had the answers he needed. So with a longing glance at the photo taken at the County Fair when he was five - of himself, his dad in uniform and his mom, which had adorned this dresser all his life, he teleported himself to Beacon Valley and the front steps of the Fathers of Pagan Hearts.

Taking a deep breath, he climbed to the front door, which promptly opened to reveal a smiling Gideon.

“Welcome, my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, now what did we say about him getting himself into shit? Yeah. 
> 
> Ok so for some clarity before it comes up. No, the dream was not an incestuous one, but rather that Gideon was dreaming about Claudia and somehow Stiles dreamscaped into it. That explanation will follow in Chapter 9, but I just thought I needed to get that out there that no, nothing of a sexual or even vaguely sexual nature is taking place between any family members in this fic.


	9. Family Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes directly to the source for answers. But is Gideon a good or even safe choice for him? Peter doesn’t take too well to losing his mate; plus, are the supernatural guests who’ve arrived there to help or will they bring more trouble for the Hale and McCall Packs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update, but thank you guys for the love and comments. Also Happy New Year! I had planned to do some writing over this past week and update a few times, but family time was more important (I know you understand). So I’m sorry I got nothing done till now. I’ll try to spend the day writing another chapter that I can edit and post during the week ahead of next Sunday’s normal update schedule.

“So you **are** my biological father,” Stiles stood in front of the grinning man, balled fists shoved deep into his pockets. His Spark was in danger of going into overdrive and this trip here, to this man, wasn’t helping any. “How?”

“Maybe you should come in.” Gideon threw the door wide and ushered his son in with a wave of his hand. Stiles didn’t hesitate, just strode forward with determined steps. In the foyer a few unfamiliar faces stared at him with suspicious eyes. Stiles guessed they were probably still preparing for their meeting tonight, but he wondered just how much Gideon had told his coven about him. “Why don’t we go into my office? It’s private,” the man in question said at his back.

Once again Stiles allowed himself to be ushered deeper into the bowels of the coven. It felt a bit different here, quieter somehow. Stiles winced as he felt a pain in his head. Now there was silence he could feel the headache coming on that had been threatening for some time. He shoved it down so he could focus. Once the door closed behind Gideon, Stiles got right to the point. “Ok, speak. Who the hell are you and what do you want from me?”

“I think you already know the answer to the former. It’s why you’re here isn’t it and without your guard puppy?”

Stiles snarled and his eyes flickered blue, then glowed gold. “Call him a dog again and I’ll show you what a dog does!” His lips were peeled back from his teeth in a picture Peter himself would have been proud of.

Internally Gideon’s pride did a hop, skip and dance at the power he could feel building in his son. He smirked, and, _smarmy bastard that he was_ , held up both hands in surrender as he skirted around Stiles to his desk. Stiles didn’t for one moment believe the man was even remotely afraid of him or apologetic about his statements.

“Now talk. What the fuck is this and what do you want? Did you deliberately try to hurt my dad when you caused us to crash?”

The man’s gray eyes lost their mirth as he perched on the edge of his desk. “I had nothing to do with your accident, nor did anyone under this coven.” His face was pinched as he diverted his gaze and exhaled.

“Your mother and I were promised to each other. Our covens had an arrangement, a pact or treaty if you will, that bonded us to marry when we became of age. But your mother went off to college, headstrong woman that she was and got involved in an animal rights group, several members of which got arrested during a protest. Well, she was burning cars at the time, so maybe a bit more enthusiastic than the classic protest. . .”

“I know the story,” Stiles grated, gritting his teeth. “That’s how my parents met.”

Gideon huffed a laugh at him, but there was nothing humorous in the gesture. “That’s how John Stilinski met Claudia Price, but that’s not how your _parents_ , met.”

Stiles walked forward slowly, carefully, a threat in every step that he took and he made sure the witch felt the intent. “You listen to me and listen well. Because John Stilinski did not plant the sperm that made . . . this,” he gestured to himself, slapping a fist against his chest, “does not make him any less my dad than he was two hours ago, or even yesterday. He raised me, made me the man that I am so don’t you dare speak as if you know me, know us.” Stiles’ voice cracked on the last word and he struggled to hold in the tears of fury that followed his declaration and warning because he knew now that this was true.

When he’d left home to come here he had no clue how to feel about any of this. He’d been driven by pain and not knowing. But the moment this sick, parasitic bastard had opened the door with that knowing and expectant smile on his face like Stiles was the long lost Prodigal Son returning home, he’d known that regardless of what his dad had done to hide the truth from him, John was still very much just that – **_his dad_**. Any hiding that had taken place, any lies, there had to be a reason for it. He was suddenly sorry he hadn’t taken the time to find out what that reason was instead of just running off here. _He was too impulsive sometimes, Peter always said so._

But no never-mind, he’d remedy that soon. After he found out what the coven wanted with him because he had no doubt they had been waiting for him. And he’d be damned before he let the others get tied up in whatever these people wanted with him.

“I’m not trying to replace your . . . **dad** , Stiles.” Gideon uttered the word with difficulty and something vicious giggled deep in Stiles. _Yes, bastard, choke on it, cause that’s exactly what he is!_

But Gideon continued nevertheless, “I just want the chance to get to know you like I never did. Like I never got to,” Gideon’s eyes were wide with pleading and sympathy.

Stiles didn’t believe a fuck of it. _Try again, Saruman,_ because Stiles had no problem going Gandalf on his ass right now _._ “Umm, nah. I don’t have to have werewolf hearing to know that’s a load of bullshit! Wanna try the truth this time?”

A smile slowly curled Gideon’s lips, his eyes went from sorrowful to delighted in seconds, and a laugh erupted from the man. “My God! You are so much more than I could ever have hoped for, Spark. Your mother would have been proud. This is going to be fun; so – much – fun.”

That’s when Stiles felt it, the gentle throbbing at the back of his mind that he’d shaken off as a headache earlier – that he’d ignored as stress, tension – that now had his vision swimming. He tried to raise his Spark as protection, but it was slow to respond. _How could he have walked in without protection? He’d been so far gone he hadn’t thought!_ He looked into Gideon’s eyes and knew he would kill this man. Whatever it was he had done and was doing, Stiles would end him.

“ **Peter!** ” was his last conscious, whispered thought.

++++++

The wolves in the house turned immediately towards the door at the knock that sounded, followed by the doorbell. They could feel the power of the beings there, and Peter snarled.

Deputy Parrish palmed his gun, and moved to answer the door, placing a hand and staying the Sheriff’s attempt to do the same. Peter went with him, as everyone else lapsed into silence. Braeden and Das stood at Peter’s back, between him and the rest of the McCall and Hale packs, waiting to see who was at the door, as Kira’s fingers sparked again, ready for anything.

The first face that greeted Peter was the last one he expected to see on this doorstep, and as he would have moved into attack mode, the woman spoke in a rush, holding up pleading hands and with terror in her voice, “We come in peace. Please, we don’t have a lot of time. Just hear us out. Please.”

The two werewolf packs surrounded the supernatural visitors as they entered the house. The visitors continually repeated that they’d come in peace, to talk.

“You’re the one who tried to kill us, aren’t you?” Peter looked at the man, the one they’d seen across the street that day in Beacon Valley.

“Yes, I’m Angus Shepherd, Head of the Infinity Round Table.”

“Holy crap,” Lydia whispered and all with enhanced hearing swung towards her exclamation. “Sorry, I didn’t know that actually existed.”

Angus inclined his head toward the banshee. “It does, and has for over a thousand years now.”

“Ok, so for those of us not up on supernatural folklore, what the hell is the _Infinity Round Table_?” John asked, as Peter closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to dispel a sudden headache.

“It’s a gathering of supernatural creatures who are charged with keeping the peace between . . . well between the groups within the supernatural community.” Peter explained.

“Well, that’s a simplified version but yes, thank you Alpha Hale. That’s exactly what we do and very well if I do say so myself.”

“So why are you trying to kill us if you’re keeping the peace in the supernatural community,” Scott asked, stepping forward.

“Because we thought you to be a threat – like those scientists.”

Peter gasped and shook his head again, putting out a hand this time to steady himself against a nearby chair. Das reacted with alarm, “Peter?!”

“Stiles?” Peter whispered, tilting his head to listen, breathing suddenly laboured.

“Oh no, Stiles . . .,” Victoria uttered, and the fairy flashed herself back to the bedroom where she’d left the barely stable Spark.

John turned to follow her, but his ribs protested and he groaned, as Braeden rested a hand on his shoulder to stop him further injuring himself. Scott rushed to follow the stairs to Stiles’ room, as did Kira and Parrish.

Delicia, Angus and Karl looked at each other, despairing that maybe they were too late after all.

“Stiles is gone!” Victoria met them in the doorway, face pale and shaken. Just then a pained and angry roar echoed throughout the house, shaking everyone to the core.

++++++

Gideon set the man down on the silken sheets, brushed a hand across his furrowed brow helping him to sink into a deeper sleep, although the witch could feel the Spark trying to fight the spell. It had taken most of his energy to hide the spell when Stiles had entered the house. The boy had been worked up and distracted and by the time he realised what was happening it had already begun to take effect.

This would buy them some time.

He returned to his office to find it filled with worried witches. “He’s fighting it.”

“Well that was expected,” Gideon said, dismissing the concern. “He won’t break it though, not yet.”

“And what the hell are we supposed to do when he does?” one of the elders asked.

“By then he’ll be too far gone to know what’s real and what’s not,” Gideon grated, as he sat behind his desk, more to disguise the fact that his energy was almost zapped than to show his contempt for these questions, but that worked just as well too. “I would be careful with this line of questioning if I were you,” he glanced up in distaste at Morris, and the man lowered his eyes.

 _These fuckers had stood by all those years ago while his family had been ripped from him. First his intended and then his unborn son. Fuck them if they thought he owed them anything._ He’d brought this pathetic coven back from ruin because it was his only way in, to get what he needed to bring his son to him. He’d needed the cloak of power, responsibility, respect that this position gave him. They’d been happy to sit back while he made them powerful again, enough to bring them respectability. _What made them think he’d allow them any kind of control now?_

“My son will do his duty when he truly awakens and our coven will be the most powerful there is. The Round Table, the Order, all of them will have no choice but to acknowledge that,” he continued.

The elders seemed mollified. Either that, or they did not want to argue with him and raise his ire and the consequences of doing so. He didn’t care what they thought or wanted. By the time he was done with all of them there would be nothing but ashes left and once his son found out the full truth, he would help him burn it all to the ground.

These old fools were nothing but a means to an end.

++++++

Peter fought to remain on his feet, and it scared and angered him how acute the hole was in the pit of his stomach where his link with Stiles, his mate, usually was. It was like someone had ripped it away, although he could still feel the links of their pack bond holding. Whatever had happened to Stiles, to his mate, at least the pack bond held.

He needed Stiles. He needed him like he needed air. He rushed towards the door, but found his path blocked. He whirled on the others, gaze murderous and red. He could feel Stiles calling to him, and he clutched at his stomach as pain ripped through him, threatening to buckle him where he stood. Stiles needed him, he had to go, had to get out. Stiles needed him.

Everyone began to move back as Victoria stepped forward, Delicia and Angus following. Braeden felt a dash of alarm, but when she would have stepped up as well, the vampire stopped her. “Let them calm him first. He’s unlikely to even recognise you right now. We promise not to harm him.”

Braeden swallowed thickly, as Peter’s form shifted into beta. He paced in front of the door, ramming himself into whatever barrier the fairy had created to stop him leaving, but all it was doing was incensing the Alpha. Peter growled then watched as his nails lengthened and his eyesight flickered. They all looked at him with fear, and Victoria stepped further forward.

“Peter, I need you to calm down. We’re going to find him, but I need you to calm down,” her hands were extended and power all but sparked at her fingertips, as her ears elongated at the tips and her skin started to glimmer.

Before he could clear the thought properly, the wolf sprung at the fairy, who with a simple flick of her wrists rendered the transformed wolf unconscious.

Kira cried out, and Das, Braeden rushed forward with her, but Victoria stopped them. “Wait, please. We need to call the Queen. We have to stop him going feral and this was the only way.”

Braeden attempted to calm Das and their fellow kitsune. “Help me move him to the sofa, Das,” Braeden said, stepping up and taking control, brushing a hand over her Alpha’s transformed brow. Even unconscious Peter had not shifted back to his human form. That was the scariest part.

The Sheriff looked torn, between rushing out to find his son and concern for Peter’s state.

_Could things get any worse?_

++++++

Mannock slipped into the darkened space as the office door opened again and the elders left. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

When the doors had opened to the Spark and Gideon had brought the man inside, Mannock had felt relief that his Master had been right all along. All they had to do was wait for the young man to come to them. He was still not sure they could swing him to their way of thinking.

The witches were seen as the lowest in the supernatural community, excluded from the Order, the Round Table and most other Council positions. They had been slowly fading out over the years, with so few joining the ranks, choosing instead to remain in hiding rather than show themselves, and with such tight controls by the governing councils and other bodies it was no wonder. When Gideon had come to them, promising to restore their prominence, they’d had nothing to lose. Mannock then had been pleased to be elevated from novice to apprentice. The next step up would be to full membership in the coven and witch status.

Then came the alliance with the humans. He’d been worried about that. The supernatural community wasn’t known for its patience or interactions with humans. In fact, it was against several laws to engage in knowing trade and intelligence exchanges with humans. They weren’t supposed to know about the supernatural community. But then the humans and their plant trade had acquired not just the coven as clients, but members of the Round Table as well.

It wasn’t until later that Mannock found out Gideon was behind the humans' expanding trade. Select members of the coven were allowed to procure what Gideon needed from the humans, and the humans were instructed on what to sell to the Round Table members. Then members of the Infinity Round Table started dying.

He’d been scared shitless, but even more terrifying than the deaths, had been Gideon’s increase in power. It was unnatural. Soon many in the coven feared him, and fewer questioned his actions.

Then he’d begun to talk about this Spark that was the answer to all their problems, but never in his wildest dreams did Mannock imagine that the Spark was actually the Master’s son. A son he’d now kidnapped and rendered unconscious.

Stuck in his little dark crevice that few knew about, Mannock began to shake as fear took over his mind. Fear, not of his Master this time, but of the wolf that would come for the Spark. Fear of what he’d do about his missing mate. Mannock had no doubt he would tear this place apart to find the Spark, wolfsbane, wards and protections spells be damned. And Mannock did not want to die.

His cold blue eyes narrowed as he tried to think of a solution that would not end with his throat torn out or his body on fire.

++++++

Scott paced what remained of the library as the two elementals and the vampire watched with trepidation in their gaze. “Speak!” he roared at them. His pack as well as the others shifted uncomfortably, sensing that the remaining Alpha was nearing the bounds of his own control.

“Claudia Price was once engaged to Fenris Davenport, the man you probably know as Gideon Pierce. It was an arrangement by two covens, an agreement that was intended to strengthen those covens. They bonded and were intended to be married after Claudia graduated from college. But when she returned from college on her first break, it was with doubts. She no longer thought Fenris was her intended but that she’d met the man she was supposed to be with. Even her aura had changed colour. She spurned the bond she’d previously had with Fenris and attempted to break the engagement. The covens were thrown into disarray and there were arguments and threats of appeals to the Councils. It became a very tense situation, especially after Claudia disappeared and no one could find Fenris.

“He’d kidnapped her and it took the covens a while to locate her. The covens almost came to war and that’s when the Order got involved. The Order, also governs our own Infinity Round Table, but we weren’t directly involved. You have to understand, after the Salem Witch Trials, the witches were seen as the greatest threat to the outing of the supernatural community. So they were kept under close observation. When these two covens began to bicker over the agreement, and then Claudia went missing, of course humans began to take notice.

“Again the supernatural community was on the brink of being revealed, and once Claudia was found, Fenris was arrested, tried and exiled. He was to be locked away for eternity for his crime. Claudia’s family took her away from our circles and news reached us soon after that she had married, a human and renounced her gifts,” Delicia explained, glancing at the Sheriff.

“We were told Fenris had been executed,” the Sheriff complained. “He was never supposed to have access to our son.”

“But he isn’t just your son, is he, John?” Karl asked softly. “Somehow it seems Fenris found out that Claudia had given birth and deduced that the boy was his.”

“But if he was supposed to have been executed, why the hell is he walking around causing havoc. Why does he need Stiles so much?” Scott asked in a pained voice.

“We think he plans to wage war on the supernatural community for what was done to him. Exile by the Order is no simple pack-your-bags, you’re-going-away. It’s eternity of service, brutal discipline, and depravation. We still have no idea why he was released or how. We can’t answer that. We just know that Angus’ wife is going to die, like so many others already have if we don’t stop Fenris,” Delicia said, anxious.

“How?”

“The plants that have amplied Fenris’ powers, have stolen those powers from others. So far we’ve lost three members of the supernatural community who were clients of these scientists. We killed them thinking it would stop the drain on their powers, but it didn’t. It was when we realised who the new leader of the Coven was, calling himself Gideon, and then you were seen leaving one of their houses and we didn’t know how high up this thing went. Gideon could not have escaped exile without help, and help higher up the food chain than us. At the time we didn’t know who Stiles was or what he meant to Fenris,” Angus said in a tired voice.

“Isn’t this a real shitstorm we’ve got on our hands now?” Braeden asked bitterly.

“And with no idea how far up the supernatural order this goes,” Lydia chimed in.

“Regardless, we need to get into that damn coven and rescue Stiles,” Derek said. “My uncle is not going to be stopped next time if he wakes up and can’t find or access his mate. If you think what happened to Gerard Argent was a mess, you haven’t seen him wreck real havoc.”

Derek turned to look at his uncle, whose brow was furrowed and who seemed lost in dreams as his lips moved soundlessly to whatever was behind his closed lids.

++++++

_ Stiles was hazy, everything was so fuzzy, but at the same time so bright and colourful. He turned and smiled up at Peter as the wolf pulled him closer and brushed a kiss across his lips. _

_ “I love you,” Stiles whispered, smiling despite the fact that his mind felt funny. For a brief moment he felt a slip of urgency – like he was supposed to be somewhere doing something important, but he couldn’t get a handle on what. _

_ He glanced again at Peter, whose hand brushed across his stomach and he felt desire curl there for his mate and closed his eyes to enjoy the moment. He had no clue where they were but he knew he was in Peter’s arms and that was all that mattered. _

_ Then suddenly something dark flickered across his closed eyelids and he blinked his eyes open. The sky was turning dark and Stiles frowned. He turned a worried gaze up at Peter again, and this time his mate was in beta form, brows pronounced, face covered in hair, eyes flared red.  _

_ “You need to wake up, love. I need you. You need to come back to me!” _

_ But that made no sense, they were here together, weren’t they? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, we all knew it was a mistake for Stiles to have reacted so rash and sought out Gideon without Peter or talking to his dad, the Sheriff. Now both he and Peter are in trouble. It gets bloody from here on out. Feedback if you care to, I always enjoy hearing your views.


	10. Dreamscaping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is trapped in a dreamscape with Peter, while the others try to come up with a way to free both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we launch into my concept of dreamscaping/dream-walking, but it is important to note that only one person controls the dream regardless of how many people are involved. In this case, it’s Stiles’ dream that Peter has been pulled into.  
> Also WARNING – there’s one brief mention of rape, no details in any way but it’s a thought from one of the main characters in the second scene of this chapter. I don’t think it significant enough to tag but let me know if I should.

Stiles struggled, limbs beginning to shift and buck on the bed, but Gideon applied a little more strength to the spell. The young man’s questioning brow began to smooth again, although Gideon could still feel the tug that told him the Spark was still aware and fighting his spell. Along with the combined strength of the other witches, the spell would hold, for now, but there was no doubt the Spark was stronger than all of them combined.

It was sheer luck that had allowed him to even gain a footing on Stiles’ mind, to distract him while the spell the others were casting, using Gideon as the conduit, took effect. Gideon was the real one holding it together and they all knew that. One slip could result in mayhem. He needed time, time to set the stage, to infiltrate and turn the Spark in their favour.

And they were running out of time. The wolves would not wait too long to come for him.

++++++

_ Stiles blinked and it was suddenly light again, but this time he heard a splash. He turned a lazy head as the sun above warmed his skin. He was lying on a blanket beside a lake, picnic basket laid out on the grass above his head and a pile of clothes beside him. _

_ He opened his eyes and couldn’t help but smile at his mate. Peter was diving in the water, showing off, no doubt butt naked, and beckoning to Stiles. _

_ “You need to get in here!” Peter called laughing. “You’re going to burn if you stay like that much longer. Come cool off.” _

_ “I don’t feel like moving,” Stiles pouted, as Peter swam to the lake’s edge and pulled himself onto the bank. **Yup, gloriously naked!** And quickly turning Stiles on. **Damn the man knew his every weakness!** _

_ “Are you sure?” Peter smirked, and Stiles knew that smirk. He groaned and knew he’d be soon in that water getting the blow job of his life.  _

**_ Well, lounging around was kinda overrated anyway, he grinned, rolling to his feet. _ **

++++++

Derek felt near tears. He brushed another hand through his uncle’s hair, sitting at his bedside. _He couldn’t lose him now. Not when they’d just become family again._

“Hang on, Uncle Peter. We’re going to get him out, _somehow_. I swear!”

“I think he’s dreamscaping.” Queen Irena had arrived not long after Victoria had rendered Peter unconscious. Her massive power was unquestionable, but the surprising balance to that power was her calm and peaceful temperament that had immediately acted as a balm to the hostility in the Stilinski house.

Scott had been ready to rip something apart; Kira was holding herself in check by sheer will and careful coaching from Tori, the nickname both she and Stiles had for Victoria; and the elementals and wolves were also unsettled and suspicious of each other. The only calm ones in the house had been Lydia and the Deputy.

Lydia now moved to Derek’s side, touching a hand to his shoulder. Somehow she’d always been the one most in tune with his emotions, hard as he was to read most of the time.

“What’s dreamscaping?” Derek asked in a broken voice, as Lydia’s warmth sank into his skin and her smell wrapped around him.

The Queen walked to the edge of the mattress and sat down. “A day ago I got a disturbing call from Stiles and Peter. Stiles had a dream that left him unsettled because he thought at the time he was having a sexual dream about Gideon Pi . . . I mean, Fenris Davenport.”

There was a gasp from several people in the room and Derek could smell disgust and concern warring with each other in the scents of those present around his uncle’s bed.

“Stiles had woken up rattled, but the way he described the dream, I felt it was some kind of projection, but at the time I had dismissed that it could even be dreamscape because dreamscaping requires a definitive link between the persons involved. It never occurred to me . . . well, not before all this, that Stiles had a biological link to someone in his dream.”

“So he was in one of Fenris’ dream,” the Sheriff said, voice pained.

“Yes.” The Queen paused briefly, with a look of pity at the Sheriff. “I think it was one of Fenris’ dreams with Claudia.”

John swallowed. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it. Like the pain was so deep that even if that person got up, he’d still feel the ache down to the bone. He should have told Stiles the truth long ago. He’d just never thought there’d be a reason to. He hoped it wasn’t the rape. _God let it not be the rape that Stiles saw._

“Peter sent me some information and I began digging. It wasn’t until after I sent Victoria here when we all learnt the truth about Stiles’ heritage, that it began to make sense to me.” She turned to the Alpha’s nephew. “Dreamscaping is when one projects oneself into the dream of another. It can be as a mere observer on the sidelines, or in very special cases, into the body of someone in the dream, even if the person scaping isn’t present in the dream itself. There are mages that have the ability, but it is rare.

“Not enough research’s been done into why it is triggered in others or under what circumstances one can dreamscape, but Stiles isn’t exactly your classic mage or even supernatural being. The power of his Spark is unlimited and still mostly unknown. He’s got untapped skills that even I don’t know about yet, and I’ve spent years training him and teaching him how to manage the gifts that we know about, but ever so often a new one pops up that we have to learn to manage from scratch.”

“But what does it mean that Peter’s dreamscaping? You’re saying he’s in a dream with Stiles? Can he warn him, can we get through to them to warn them, to help them somehow?” Derek sat up and Lydia’s hand slid from his shoulder. He reached out and replaced it where it had been. The banshee smiled softly at him and he felt something in his heart unclench.

Irena shook her head. “Like I said, dreamscaping isn’t well known even among many in the supernatural community, and those in the know are careful with whom they share its secrets, for obvious reasons. I don’t want to risk waking Peter. I’ll try talking to him, but not enough to wake him. I don’t want him to lose his grip on Stiles, especially now. Plus, when Peter wakes, we have to be prepared that the Peter who wakes might not be the same one who fell asleep.”

“You mean because he’s feral now,” Kira felt tears gather in her eyes for her Alpha, mentor and father figure.

“He’s not quite feral yet, but he could be.” Irena exhaled and looked around the room to make sure everyone would understand her next words. “The connection between mates is a sacred one. The connection between mates when one is a Spark with Stiles’ level of power is . . . unfathomable. For someone to have forcibly threatened or interrupted that connection in anyway is dangerous to both mates, and enough to cause Peter to hyper-focus.

“I believe that’s what happened when he realised Stiles was gone, when he tried to attack Victoria. He was not just Peter, the Alpha then. He was an Alpha wolf of supreme strength, without his anchor going into hyper-focus. His only thought then would have been getting to his mate, saving his mate, the need for his mate. Nothing else would register. Now imagine that kind of power, that kind of focus unleashed on the members of this household trying to control him and stop him getting to his mate.

“The spell Victoria used should have worn off by now. The only reason it hasn’t is because he’s dreaming with Stiles, and his mind believes it to be real. So right now we have very few choices available to us. We have to find a way to get Stiles out of the Coven safely; alert Peter and Stiles to the danger they are in before Fenris realises they are in there together, or somehow fully restore the mate bond between them that Fenris is trying to break. The consequences of failure at these tasks does not bear consideration.”

“What happens if Fenris realises they are dreaming together?”

The Queen for the first time looked uncomfortable. “Considering that he pulled Stiles into a dream once, whether intended or no – and I can’t imagine why he would have wanted Stiles in that kind of a dream – but we have to assume Fenris Davenport knows his way around the dream realm. At least in some respects.” The next words would hurt and shock, she knew this, but this was not time to withhold information. “If he’s able to attack, harm or kill in this realm, there may be no coming back from it.”

A shiver passed through everyone in the house within hearing distance of the Queen’s pronouncement.

“And if he realises Peter’s there, that’s what he’ll do isn’t it?” Derek despaired.

Unaware of his role in the absolute terror that had just struck his nephew and pack, Peter turned in his sleep and muttered, but only two words came through – “my love”.

++++++

_ Stiles was wrung out, sated, happy. Peter was perched on his elbows above him, as Stiles ran his fingers through his mate’s hair, both smiling at each other. _

_ “Aren’t you glad we decided to take a vacation, now?” _

_ “Ok, maybe you were right. I just think we need to check in with the pack. You know the kind of mess Das and Phillip can get up to sometimes. I’d hate to have Ramon, or Braeden have to run herd on them.” _

_ “Honey, they are fine. If they run into trouble we’d feel it even before they could call us. Or are you questioning my powers now?” Stiles teased. _

_ “Of course not, my love.” _

_ “Then stop grampa-ing and enjoy this, please. We hardly have time to ourselves like this anymore and we don’t even have kids yet.” As he said it, a slight pain shot through his forehead. The thought of children triggered that niggling feeling in the back of his mind again that he needed to be somewhere, doing something; something urgent. _

_ Peter looked at him in alarm. “Stiles, are you ok?” _

_ “Yeah. . . Yeah. . . Just the beginnings of a headache, I think.” _

_ “Ok, enough sun for today. Let’s pack up and head back. I can think of a few things to occupy your mind and chase headaches away.” _

_ Stiles grinned and allowed his lover to pull him to his feet. _

++++++

Gideon looked down at his sleeping son – the most powerful Spark the supernatural community had seen in quite a while and felt pride at knowing he had helped create this wonderful specimen.

After the initial skirmish and struggle, Stiles had stopped fighting the spell as strongly as he did before and Gideon wasn’t certain why. If anything, he’d expected more, not less struggles. Not that he was complaining. It had given him a chance to recharge his own powers, with the help of a blended concoction he’d created with one of the last plants that he’d gotten out of the humans.

It was a pity the Elementals had destroyed the greenhouses, but he was strong enough now to keep taking power from the last one that was infected. He’d drain her like a husk, and by the time he was done, maybe his son would be awake and prepared to exact their revenge.

Stiles’ declaration about John still being his dad was disappointing, but Gideon had the perfect solution to that, if the spell failed. He’d already put something in motion to ensure he’d get what he wanted. Years of watching, just watching, was about to pay off in dividends. The witch laughed, a soft chuckle. He wanted to look the Sheriff in the eye when he struck at his heart and squeezed the last life from him.

He moved to turn away, but a murmur from Stiles stopped him. As he watched puzzled, the young man smiled serenely, and muttered, “. . . always love you, Peter.”

And Gideon’s heart skipped. _No, it couldn’t be!_

Goose pimples rose on his skin as he considered what this meant. He’d been wondering how Stiles had ended up in his dream with Claudia . . . but if, if his son had the same talent he did – and it wasn’t so far fetch to imagine – then it was possible he was dreamscaping with his mate. _If they were dreaming together, the bond hadn’t been broken._ He almost roared his frustration.

He was sure there was only one thing that could stop his plans and he’d thought he’d dealt with the blasted wolf. The Spark was strong, he’d always known that. Evidently, even with the spell he was holding onto the bond. _Amazing!_

As his pride further swelled at Stiles’ gifts, even the ones passed down from his biological father, it was shattered with a spike of worry. The wolf should have been feral by now. Uncontrollable and causing murder and mayhem. _Dammit!_

There was only one thing left to do. _He needed to kill the wolf, and soon._ They were just hours away from the ceremony. _Maybe, just maybe he had enough time to end him once and for all._

++++++

“But how can they be dreamscaping together if the bond is broken?” It was Isaac asking with a worried brow, fearful for both the Alpha and the Alpha’s missing mate, his own Alpha’s ‘brother’ since childhood.

He felt a sting of shame to ask, given the history between himself and Stiles. He just hoped it wasn’t too late to start mending that rift. The whole story about Fenris, Claudia and John had been a punch to the gut. _Look at the pain that had wrought on so many lives because of this man’s reluctance to accept that the woman he wanted, had wanted and loved someone else._ Lives had been ended prematurely, and others were being ripped apart because of his desperate desire for revenge.

Isaac looked around at the worried packs and recalled what it’d been like to lose Boyd and Erica. He wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone, yet this witch was determined to bring them all pain. He, Isaac, refused to turn into someone like that; someone who only knew how to cause pain.

“The bond’s not broken exactly. More like interrupted, or blocked, but it’s very much still there. Thank the universe! And regardless, they are mates, whether something happens to the bond or not, that’s a simple fact. They belong to each other and that’s not something even the strongest magic can alter,” Irena said, gaze fixed on Isaac, and the eyes that looked at him were knowing, _too damn knowing_.

++++++

_ “I love you. I’ll always love you, Peter,” Stiles whispered as he brought his lips to Peter’s. Their bed was heaven – soft, comfortable, heaven. _

_ “I love you too, Stiles. What do you want to do tonight for dinner? We could go out somewhere.” _

_ “I don’t know. I was thinking we’d stay in and I’d cook. I haven’t done that in a while. We’ve been so gosh darn busy with everything – classes, the bar, the pack . . .” _

_ “Ummm, sounds good. Also you may want to check in with your dad. You said you would yesterday.” _

_ Stiles frowned, “I did?” He had no memory of that. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to his dad either. His dad . . . his . . . dad. Stiles curled over in bed with an umph, the pain forcing a cry from his lips. _

_ “Stiles?” Peter’s voice went high and panicked. “Babe, babe talk to me. Stiles, what’s wrong? Stiles?” _

++++++

John’s cell rang and he slipped out of the room to answer. He knew given the senses and powers of most of those gathered in the room that this was only an illusion of privacy, but he knew the number. It was the Sheriff’s office in Beacon Valley.

“Hi, Waveney. Look I’m sorry about . . .”

“Sheriff Stilinski?” _That wasn’t Waveney’s voice._ There was silence for the breath of a moment before the stammering voice continued. “This is Deputy Vaughan, sir.”

“Michael? Hi, what’s up Deputy?” John tried not to let fear enter his voice.

The officer paused again and John’s stomach tightened. “Michael?”

“Sir, I don’t know how to tell you this . . .”

“Tell me what, Michael?” John knew his voice was raising in panic, but he couldn’t control it now. _No, God, please no. Not again! He couldn’t be receiving this call again._

“It’s about Sheriff Coulthrust, sir. She’s missing.”

++++++

Mannock unlocked the gates that led into the back of the property and allowed the dark vehicle to drive in. Watching as the brake lights glowed and the vehicle pulled to a stop near the rear doors to the Coven.

He relocked the gates, and moved cautiously forward, watching as the other witches opened the backdoor and pulled a prone figure from the backseat.

 _Shit!_ He swallowed and almost whimpered when he saw her face. _Shit just got even more real._

_What was the Master thinking? Why would he do this? This was prison, if not death to the coven._

_Surely they weren’t this reckless and suicidal!?_

++++++

“What do you mean missing? Tell me!”

Parrish moved closer, directing John, without his boss even being aware of being led, into a chair.

“Well, yesterday Evalyn, who works the front desk told us the Sheriff was likely not to be in today. Said she might be driving up to Beacon Hills to see how you were doing and to discuss some case stuff. She’d left a message for me to drop some files at her house on my way home.

“When I got there and told her we’d make sure things ran smoothly without her today, she said she wasn’t going again. That you’d told her not to come. She seemed so torn about it, but she also seemed worried, and I’m really sorry, sir, but I talked her into going. She thought you’d lost interest, and said she thought she knew why. I told her I thought she was drawing conclusions, that you weren’t that type of man, on account of how long it’d taken you to get interested in anyone after . . . well, you know,” the Deputy’s voice trembled.

“So when she didn’t come in today, everyone thought nothing of it, then we got a call that her car was found on the edge of the highway, on the way to Beacon Hills. She was nowhere to be found and the car door was open . . . And there was blood on the seat and window.”

John’s breath caught in his throat. _God! Life couldn’t be this cruel could it?_ His mind blurred and he suddenly felt thirsty, very thirsty. His heart hurt and he struggled to breathe. Scott knelt in his line of sight, placing a hand against his chest though the open buttons at the neck of his shirt and he saw dark tendrils snake up the Alpha’s arm.

Scott took the phone from John’s numb fingers and pressed speaker.

“We’ve got crews out searching, but so far, nothing, even with the blood. It’s like she’s vanished into thin air. Even the dogs aren’t picking up anything. But at least we haven’t found a body or anything, right?” The Deputy’s voice shook again and he forcibly cleared his throat. “The Mayor’s been notified, and I thought our next call should be to inform you of what’s happened. I’m so sorry, Sheriff. I talked her into driving up there alone. I promise we’ll find Sheriff Coulthrust. We have to!” His tone was more hopeful than sure.

 _First his son, now the woman he loved._ He had no doubt who was behind it. None at all. _But why take Waveney? Did he mean to kill her?_

++++++

“We’ll get some of our people out searching with the crews,” Angus offered once they’d been able to calm the Sheriff. “I think though, at this point we all know there’s only one place she could be . . .” The ‘if she was still alive’ remained unspoken but everyone heard it loud and clear.

“Do you think she had more information? Could she have discovered something new that he’d want to take her?”

“I doubt that. She’d have to know where to look, and so far I’ve kept her in the dark about the supernatural community.” Guilt about that slammed into John. He’d never forgive himself for not having warned her about what was out there. About these witches and what they were capable of. He claimed to love this woman, yet had left her on her own, unprotected.

“You can’t blame yourself, John. Look how long it took you to let me in, and we’d known each other for way longer,” Parrish offered, though the young deputy knew it was little consolation.

“But you’re not all human there, are you Deputy?” said the vampire, looking the young man up and down with unreadable eyes.

Parrish frowned at the vampire. “What do you mean?”

Lydia cleared her throat and threw a dark look at the blood sucker. “John,” she tried to derail that conversation and at the same time get things back on track. “We’ll find them both. He took her, which means he wants her for something.”

“Yes, and I’m thinking that something is to lore you to him,” Braeden said. “I mean, let’s face it. The only thing that stood between Fenris Davenport and his dream family was that his ‘dream wife’ fell in love with someone else and went on to marry that person and raise her family with him. John got to do what he never did and that has to burn him deep down.”

“In his position, I’d want you to watch anything I did with any new woman in your life,” said the Wales wolf.

“Das!” Kira hissed at her packmate’s comment.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be insensitive. My point is, it makes sense that he’d want to keep her alive until he gets his hand on the Sheriff here.”

“In other words, he’s coming for you next,” Derek said flatly, echoing the thoughts of everyone.

“Well just let him. We’ll be prepared,” Scott said, steeling his spine.

++++++

_ Peter moved up behind his mate and planted a kiss at the nape of his neck, arms wrapping around his waist as he inhaled the scents from the stovetop.  _

_ “Hey you!” Stiles turned his head so Peter could peck him on the lips. _

_ “Hey yourself. Feeling better?” _

_ “Yeah, it was probably that cheese.” _

_ “There was nothing wrong with the cheese. I ate it too.” _

_ “Yeah, but we both know you have the constitution of a food compacter . . . or garbage disposal.” The latter was said with a cheeky grin and all the sass he could muster. _

_ “Funny. I think maybe we should go see a doctor tomorrow.” _

_ “Honey, please don’t fuss. I promise I’m all better now. Besides this dinner is just what the doctor would order.” _

_ “I doubt that, but what are you making?” _

_ “Bucatini with Pesto, and garlic bread.” Peter could hear the smile in Stiles voice as he said it. Peter was a fiend when it came to pesto on any kind of pasta. He didn’t know why, but it acted as some kind of aphrodisiac anytime Stiles made it and then they spent the rest of the night in bed wrapped around each other. _

_ “I thought you’d be tired by now. Are you sure it’s a good idea to feed me pesto right now?” _

_ Stiles giggled, and the sound warmed his insides. “What else do we have to do?” _

_ Peter’s smile faltered momentarily at Stiles’ back. **Were they supposed to be doing something else? Why did it feel like they should?** _

_ “Hey, you still with me back there?” Stiles hunched a shoulder beneath the chin Peter had hooked over him from behind, jolting his lover back to the present. _

_ Peter turned to look out the window of the cabin, brows lowered. **He was missing something, he knew he was, but what?** _

_ “Stiles?” _

_ “Yes, darling?” _

_ “Where are we?” _

_ Stiles turned to look at him with puzzled eyes, lips fast losing their smile. “What do you mean? We’re on holiday. You said you’d try your best to enjoy this, Peter. Is this about my stomach again?” The young man’s lips pouted a bit, as he set the hot wooden spoon aside and folded his arms, tilting an unimpressed head at his mate. _

_ “Babe,” the Alpha moved forward, hands cupping his mate’s cheek. “I could live anywhere happily with you for the rest of our lives, but where the hell are we? Right now, where is this? And why can’t I remember how we got here?” _

_ “We’re . . .” Stiles turned and looked around him. **This was crazy, of course he knew where they were. He’d planned the trip to a T.** “We’re . . .” but his mind was blank. “. . . on holiday?” _

_ Stiles swallowed, skin pimpling as Peter ran his hands up and down his arms. He looked his mate in the eyes, “Peter, I don’t know. Where are we?” _

_ A rumble sounded in Peter’s chest as the Alpha’s eyes suddenly began to redden. _

++++++

Gideon’s face was pinched as he looked dispassionately at the woman. _The Sheriff’s new lover._ He’d been able to cast off the memories of Claudia so easily, bringing this woman in to replace her. _He’d never deserved her in the first place._ She’d belonged to him and he’d remind them all of that fact.

“Take her to the cells until we’re ready. She will be our first sacrifice tonight under the full moon.”

He had more important things to worry about at the moment, like getting into Stiles’ dream. And if that failed, blood magic wouldn’t and he already had a sacrifice lined up.

++++++

The rumble from Peter had Derek rushing back to his uncle’s side.

“Hang on, pup,” the Queen warned, stepping close. “Peter? Peter can you hear me. Peter?”

The rumbling slowly grew to a roar as the Alpha began to thrash around in the bed.

“What the hell’s happening to him?” Derek feared his uncle was in Fenris’ grasp, as the Queen and Victoria used their powers to ensure he wouldn’t hurt himself or anyone else.

++++++

“Master, come quick! I think the Spark is waking!” The fearful cry from one of lesser witches had him shooting out of the chair he’d only just sat in to try hacking his way into Stiles’ dream, and rushing back to Stiles’ room.

The building shook, items started to float, and paintings and vases flew across the corridor and crashed into the wall, pieces flying every which way along with the plants that were inside the containers.

Gideon tried to get into the room but something was blocking his access. He looked in and there in the centre was his son levitating above the mattress, skin starting to glow.

“ **No!** ” the Master witch yelled and pushed his power into the room.

++++++

_ Stiles smiled as Peter dug into the pasta with gusto. He reached over and poured them both another glass of wine. _

_ “Good?” he asked, as Peter took the tongs and served himself another portion. _

_ “Damn good!” his love confirmed, tucking into the food like a starving man. His stomach tightened with pleasure. Peter always knew how to make him feel good about anything he did. _

_ His eyes dropped to his plate and the smile on his face faltered. His brows puckered and he blinked slowly. He thought he heard a voice, someone calling his mate’s name. A voice he knew. **If only he could concentrate.** _

_ “Stop thinking and eat!” Peter admonished and Stiles took up his fork and sucked the pasta in, enjoying the warmth of the food as it slid down his palate. _

++++++

Nearly an hour later, Gideon sank into his chair, every limb ached like he’d been involved in a joust. One he’d almost lost. He didn’t know if he’d be so successful the next time, but Stiles was still resisting the spell, even at his calmest he was resisting.

“Master?” Gideon looked up as Mannock poked his head in the door and he raised a questioning brow at the apprentice.

“The Mayor’s on the phone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting interesting folks. Thank you all so much for the comments, kudos and love.


	11. Blood for Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With no easy way into the coven, and Gideon determined to get at Peter through Stiles’ dream, the team tries to figure out their next angle of attack. Sheriff Coulthrust is in danger and conflicted about what she knows about John, his family and associates, and Stiles’ Spark is in the fight to save his life and that of the man he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the responses and the kudos everyone. I was trying not to add too many characters and instead sticking to dialogue delivered by nameless people so you wouldn’t have too many to remember. I know it can sometimes be confusing when there are too many unknowns in a fic. Didn’t work, so now I have a few new names for ya. Hope you can follow.

The Mayor was on the line. _Shit_ , Gideon didn’t have time for this.

“Gideon, where the hell’s the body and the file?”

“There won’t be a body, Mayor, and you know better than to be caught with her files. You told me to handle this and I am. Don’t pressure me.” Gideon’s voice darkened with the threat. All this was doing was delaying him from more important matters.

“Remember who got you out of that hell hole, **_Fenris_**! That woman had information on me that she was going to share with the Sheriff up in Beacon Hills. So far we only have a missing Sheriff and because there is no body the FBI is being called in. I had no choice, the local deputies were asking and I didn’t have a reason to delay. I can’t afford for those files to be found. Do you understand? You told me you were handling this!”

“ **And I am** ,” Gideon growled. “You might have got me out of that ‘hell hole’ but don’t you forget who the fuck you’re talking to, _Mayor_! You will get what I give you when I choose to give it to you.”

He slammed the phone back onto its cradle.

 _The gall of the man._ Once he’d finished with that meddling _mate_ of a wolf, he’d turn his attentions on Mayor Phelps. He had enough time, Gideon checked the antique grandfather clock. Maybe the man had forgotten how to fear him and why it wasn’t a good idea to piss him off. Time for a reminder.

++++++

Phelps stared at the receiver. _How dare he? Who did he think he was?_ He’d spared him from a fate worse than death, elevated him within the supernatural community to serve his purposes, and this was the thanks he got.

_Because he could access his dreams like the damn boogie man, he thought that was enough to scare the Mayor of Beacon County? Had he forgotten who Anthony was, the resources at his disposal?_

Well they’d have to see about that.

++++++

Waveney woke slowly, with a throbbing in her head and her leg, but at least she could feel pain, which meant she was still alive. She’d barely had time to draw her weapon and get off a single shot, but she knew it had done damage before they had knocked her unconscious.

She controlled her breathing, making sure to keep it even, just like John had once jokingly taught her, and she listened for any sounds or movement. It wouldn’t do to let whoever had forced her off the road and taken her to know she was awake just yet. Criminals tended to move forward with their plans once the victims were aware. So she listened.

But then a thought came back to her and her breath almost stuttered. _John!_ She’d been on her way to confront John and his son about the information. _God, she hoped John was not involved, or Stiles. She’d hate to have to lock up her lover’s son, but she’d do it._ She knew she would.

She’d already heard more than enough rumours about the building off Main Street, and had begun looking into them separately, when a witness had placed Jessie and April there some time before their deaths. Each enquiry into who owned the building and what kind of organisation it was had been stonewalled though, until one of her deputies pointed out that it was whispered to be some kind of coven, _as in real life witches_. She’d laughed it off at first, but still paid attention, especially after a courtesy call on the man there, a Mr. Gideon Pierce who claimed they were antique dealers. She didn’t believe a word of it.

So she’d had the cameras down the street trained on the business. That’s when she’d caught sight of Stiles and Peter arriving at and leaving said building, and then the almost confrontation in the street with the man who’d appeared and disappeared like at the snap of a finger. She could no longer scoff at the concept of witches then. Real witches with powers, like you saw on tv.

 _But what did any of this have to do with the Stilinskis?_ Then her deputies had called in a disturbance at the bar, and she’d arrived to find two Beacon Hills residents in an altercation with a man there – a man they’d already questioned about Jessie’s death. She remembered one of them too, the one in that leather jacket who looked like he belonged behind bars. And as she was set to follow them, the woman had grabbed the man and spun him and his eyes for a moment had glowed electric blue. She could then no longer exist in the land of ignorance.

She remembered the heart attack she’d almost had at the knowledge that there was more out there than she’d known. And John’s family and acquaintances were at the centre of it somehow.

Waveney had quietly begun digging more, especially into Gideon Pierce and found investments from the rumoured “coven” that traced to Mayor Phelps’ last campaign. Something was decidedly rotten in Beacon County and she needed answers. She had no doubt that was what led her capture and evident imprisonment. Witches, disappearing windy people and others with glowing eyes. It almost distracted her from focussing on her breathing.

 _But . . . she would know if the man she’d been sleeping with and fallen in love with wasn’t human, wouldn’t she? God she hoped so._ _Could he somehow be involved in these deaths?_ She didn’t think so. _She knew John!_ But then, she didn’t trust her own judgment right now.

In fact, she didn’t know whom to trust.

++++++

Mannock spilled the sugar yet again. He had to get the damn shaking under control before he gave himself away and ended up with his entrails on the outside. _Now that would be a bad thing._

Once the concoction was ready, he placed it on a tray and began the trek up to the Master’s room. Gideon had been using up a lot of potions tonight, which spoke of the sheer strength of the frail looking young man in the bed upstairs. To look at one would never think he had it in him, but the power, even now, could be felt pulsing throughout the house. He was afraid the Spark would bring it all crashing down on their heads the next time he tried to wake, and Mannock knew he wasn’t the only one who was thinking it.

He knocked on the door, and once he heard the summons, opened and entered. A curl of steam rose from the cup, which the Master reached out with a bare hand to claim, drinking it slowly while Mannock watched.

“Make sure I’m not disturbed. I need peace and concentration for this,” he said, and Mannock could not nod his understanding of his orders fast enough. Gideon smirked.

The apprentice felt something cold and angry well up in him at the smile. Gideon liked to know he kept people on the edge of fear. It was where he lived, where he thrived. And right now Mannock had no doubt he was about to inject that fear into his son. Gideon’s dream walking was no laughing matter. None at all, and he knew it well.

++++++

_ “Do you think we’d make good parents?” Stiles wasn’t sure where the question came from but it’d been in the back of his mind even before he rose to clear the dishes. They had a routine, when Stiles cooked, Peter washed, Stiles dried, and vice versa. _

_ Peter chuckled, looking at him fondly. “Where’d that question come from?” _

_ “I . . .,” he frowned. “I’m not sure.” He leaned against the counter facing Peter who was at the sink. “Do you mind?” _

_ “Mind? Discussing children, you mean? You do realise that together we can’t have kids right? Wrong organs and all . . .” Peter teased. _

_ Stiles’ head swamp and he suddenly felt ill, like nauseously ill. He stumbled back two steps and heard, rather than saw, the plate fall from Peter’s hands as his mate reached out to grab him. _

_ He placed both palms against Peter’s warm chest as he tried to focus. A lancing pain shot through his head and had Peter not been holding him, he probably would have fallen and cracked his head on the kitchen counter, so acute was his reaction as he reared back in pain. It was like drills were attacking his brain. _

_ Peter’s arms tightened as his mate called his name repeatedly, fear in his voice. “Stiles!? Stiles, dammit stay with me. Babe please, open your eyes, please!” _

_ His skin started to glow, to heat, and he screamed in agony, as the kitchen flickered around them and grew dark. _

++++++

Gideon screamed. He screamed and screamed. He’d never felt anything like it. It felt like his eyes were being ripped from their sockets, but he couldn’t pull out, so he bore down.

++++++

“Stiles!? Stiles, dammit stay with me,” the pained scream from unconscious Peter’s lips shot everyone into the room and Derek, who’d yet to leave his bedside, to his feet.

The others had gone downstairs to the library to plan a way into the Coven. There had to be one and they would find it or they’d tear their way in and through every witch that tried to stop them. At the noise, the scream of sheer agony, they’d raced back to find tears running down Peter’s face.

John, who’d been helped up the stairs by Braeden and Parrish, fell to his knees in tears, sobbing like a broken man. _His son couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t!_

“Do something!” Derek yelled at the Queen, no longer concerned that she was the highest ranking supernatural in the room. “You have to do something!”

And Peter roared.

++++++

Mannock rushed back into the room and gasped. There were trickles of blood running down the Master’s face from the corners of his eyes, as his body bucked in the bed.

Morris was the first to reach the doorway, followed by Amarie. Both looked on in horror, and when Morris rushed towards the bed, Mannock grabbed him fast, dragging on his robes and pulling the elder back, nearly throwing him off-balance and onto the floor.

“You can’t touch him. It’s dangerous to touch him.” Mannock knew better than to touch the Master at this point, but he also didn’t know what to do.

“He’s no fucking use to us dead,” Morris yelled, and struggled to get the crazy apprentice’s hands from his clothing but the man was stronger than he looked.

As the tussle continued, with Amarie seeming frozen by what was taking place before her, Gideon bucked almost in half, head near touching the back of his feet and at the same time was catapulted across the room, smacking with a sickening thud into the wall before he collapsed like one of the broken vases on the floor.

“Oh my God!” Amarie whispered and barely refrained from crossing herself as her previous Christian upbringing reared to the fro. It was enough to mobilise all of them as they rushed into the room.

Mannock turned Gideon over and felt for a pulse. It was there, but weak.

“Call Alan. I need him here now,” Morris said, looking at the apprentice as if daring him to argue. “Damn fool. Now was not the time to take chances. I told him the Spark was too damn strong.” Then in anger he began to draw runes around the body on the floor.

++++++

_ Stiles fell weak in his hands like a ragdoll, sweat beading his skin, breathing in sharp gasps like he’d just run a marathon. Peter was shaking, but Stiles skin was cooling again, more to its normal temperature. His eyes started moving beneath closed lids as Peter lowered them both to the floor; his heart pounding but bewildered. _

_ He continued to brush a hand against Stiles’ wet brow, smoothing his unruly hair back – **it was longer than he remembered.** “Babe. Please, babe.” _

_ Slowly the lashes began to blink, until those warm brown eyes looked up at him, puzzled. “What happened?” _

++++++

“I think it’s time to inform the Order,” the Queen said, eyes sad and misty.

“If we inform the Order, you know what will happen,” Delicia whispered, voice nervous, body flickering in and out of place.

“We don’t have a choice now. If Stiles dies in there, they both die and I will not allow this Fenris Davenport to claim either of them.

“It’d be death to us all. You know that!” Angus said.

“Why?” Das snarled, not bothering to hold his wolf back while his Alpha was likely in real danger and these people stood around discussing their own safety. “Why would the Order kill us?”

“Because the child never should have been born,” Karl answered. “If the Order had known she was pregnant when they exiled Davenport, the child would have been taken. Stiles would not have been allowed to live. They will kill us for withholding that knowledge, and you for knowing of it.”

“Maybe we can reason with them,” the Queen said. “They have to see reason in this.”

“Reason?” the vampire yelled. “If Davenport manages somehow to gain the Spark’s powers, whether through corrupting him, or like the others, consuming him, we are finished. Not just us, here, but every last supernatural on this planet. There will be no stopping him. Why would they run the risk that someone else could capture and use him? You know I’m right.”

“This makes no sense. It’s their fault he’s even still alive. If he’d been executed when they said he was, he’d have no access to Stiles whatsoever!” Allison said, face set.

“We are out of options.” Victoria said, lost and frustrated.

“I’ll do it.”

Every eye turned to the banshee as she repeated. “I’ll do it. Let me try.”

++++++

_ Peter laid Stiles on the bed and reached out for the telephone, digging for a phone book as he did. The bedside tables were empty and there was no dial tone. He frowned, confused. **What the hell was happening?** _

_ “Peter?” _

_ “Hang on babe. I’m getting you to a doctor and you’re not talking me out of it this time.” _

_ “I don’t want to ruin our vacation,” Stiles whined. _

_ “Ruin our vacation? You think any vacation could be more important to me than your health? Than us?” _

_ “I just think we shouldn’t overreact, honey.” _

_ “Overreact? Stiles, you were unconscious and screaming in pain. I thought I was losing you. Don’t talk to me about overreacting right now. And why the hell doesn’t this phone have dial tone?” He smacked the handset onto the cradle repeatedly, trying by sheer brute strength to shock the damn thing into working as it should. It was the only thing keeping his fear at bay. _

_ “Ok, change of plan,” Peter said, when nothing still worked. “Babe, we’re going to the car and I’m taking you to the nearest hospital.” _

_ “You know I hate hospitals,” Stiles pouted now. Peter looked at him before dropping a kiss on the pout. _

_ “I’ll be with you the whole time. Come on. We’ll call your dad when we get there, because I can’t even remember what I did with my cell phone.” _

_ He helped his mate out of the bed and into some shoes, grabbing both their coats from the closet (at least those were still where they’d put them) and thinking where he’d left the car keys. **Funny that he didn’t remember driving here.** They stepped out of the bedroom and into a long corridor – that just kept extending. _

_ “What the fuck?” Stiles’ voice was a little more like Peter had been expecting about this whole mess. _

++++++

“Gently, gently,” Alan directed, as the witches moved a healing Gideon back to the bed. “Now just as I showed you. There’s no room for error here. We get this wrong and our plans are finished.”

“He was a fool to try this. And to go it alone . . . It was reckless,” Morris again, even angrier than he’d been before.

“Why was he even trying to walk in the Spark’s dreams?” someone else asked, and dozens of eyes turned to Mannock.

“I don’t know!” the apprentice lied. _But maybe this was a blessing in disguise._

++++++

“Lydia!” Scott whispered.

She looked to her Alpha and then met Derek’s eyes. “I have to try.”

“Wait, try what?” Braeden stepped forward, looking very much like she was ready to block everyone’s access to Peter.

“You don’t even know if it’ll work. It could go wrong this time.”

Finally Derek caught on to what they were talking about. “Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying? Lydia, you almost died! He almost killed you!”

“But he didn’t. If I can get it back, maybe I can get in.”

“Hey!” It was Kira’s loud yell that shut them all up. “Now one of you needs to explain what the hell is going on and right now, cause I’ve had it up to here with riddles and secrets.” Her jaws were clenched and the hairs on everyone’s arms started to stand at attention.

“Kira?” Braeden turned to her pack mate not sure if she should get any closer.

Tori had no such worries. Smoothing a hand against Kira’s back, she coached, “Bring it down a notch sweetie or you’re going to fry us all.”

Kira exhaled. “Sorry. But please, just tell us. Do you know something that could save our Alpha and Stiles?”

Lydia looked at her pack members, eyes conveying her apology. “Not too long ago we had a bunch of Alphas pass through town and cause some damage. They killed Derek’s sister and two of our other pack members and, in return we exterminated the wolves that did the murders and the leader went into hiding. Unknown to me, he was visiting me at night while I was asleep. There was no assault or anything, but he knew of a ritual that would bring his pack back from the dead and he used it to cause me to hallucinate enough that I wouldn’t know what I was doing. I began dreaming about them, hallucinating too. Because I’m a banshee, and we can project into the future, apparently I have a window into that realm. It only happens with the past and the future, but I see no reason why we can’t see if I can reach them now, in the present.”

“You see no reason?” Derek flared, eyes blue. “How about the fact that you were dehydrated, weak and barely had a pulse after the last time? How about the fact that we nearly lost you and you couldn’t see or speak for weeks, and that was only when he didn’t fully succeed? How about . . .”

“Derek . . .” her voice was soft and pleading.

“No, no!” He dropped back into the chair, putting his head in his hands. “Why does it have to be you?”

“Because there’s no one else, and if I don’t do this; if I don’t at least try, I don’t know how you’ll be able to look at me again, or if I’ll be able to look at myself if I let Stiles suffer in there.” Her throat was dry and aching.

“Are you sure about this Miss Martin? Like I said, if something happens to you in there, I don’t think we’ll be able to bring you back out here.”

“I’m sure.”

“Ok, what do we need?”

++++++

Kira bit her nails and watched.

“What?” The kitsune jumped as Braeden came up behind her. “I can practically hear that little mind of yours ticking away in there. What?”

“Just . . .,” she looked around at everyone hurrying to get what Lydia needed ready. “I think we should try to help.”

Braeden frowned, and Das walked up to the duo. “We are helping,” he said puzzled. “We can’t do what she’s doing.” _Werewolf hearing_ , he seemed to say with a shrug when Kira raised a brow at him.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean?” The three turned guiltily to look at Angus.

“Look, the Queen said before that if Gideon, Fenris, whatever the hell he’s going by, realises Peter’s in there that he could kill him. I think based on the screaming earlier we can assume the ante’s up. If we’re sending Lydia in there to look around, she’s in the same danger. So why are we just sitting here instead of helping her?”

“How?” Das asked.

“You’re thinking of a diversion,” Braeden said catching on. “While she’s trying to get in there, we keep the coven so busy that their attention is somewhere else,” the fox grinned wildly.

“And while their attention is somewhere else, then chances that they are too focussed on this is lessened . . .” Angus looked at the young lightning charger. He smiled slowly. “I like it.”

“What do we like?” Tori asked, four pairs of bulky headphones jostling in her arms as she paused by the small gathering.

++++++

Everyone was pressed into action then. Some back to planning a new kind of strategy, others continuing to gather the necessities.

“I didn’t know you’d found the ritual,” Scott whispered to Lydia quietly.

She gave him her dry stare, as she twisted her hair up into a bun and secured it with a pin Allison provided. “Please, like I was going to allow anyone else to mess with my head and not know how to counter it. That psycho taught me a thing or two about protection.”

Scott looked like he was about to say something else, when Derek cleared his throat. “Scott, Alli,” it was the first time he’d addressed her as such and she smiled shyly. “Can you guys give us a minute.” The Alpha looked up at Derek, down at Peter and then nodded, taking Allison’s hand and patting Lydia on the shoulder.

“What if we don’t get you back?”

“I’m coming back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know that I’m not.”

Derek sighed. “I . . . we don’t want to lose you too. We’ve all lost so much already.”

“Which is why I have to do this; but I'm coming back.” She stepped closer to him and rest a hand on his chest, over his heart. “And when I do then you can tell me how come you’ve never told me you like me.”

Derek swallowed, but he couldn’t look away. “That I? . . . I . . .” Then Peter grunted and his forehead scrunched.

Neither knew what it meant, but they figured time was up.

“We’ll talk about this when I get back.” She looked at him one last time, then leaned up to brush a kiss across his cheek. “Queen Irena!” she walked away calling to find out if everything was ready.

Less than ten minutes later Derek, Irena, Delicia, Das, and John were gathered around Peter’s bed. The others were already somewhere in Beacon Valley, having been teleported there by the Queen moments before.

Let the show begin.

Lydia laid next to Peter, reached out and grasped his hand, turning to look at the unconscious wolf before her eyes met Derek’s above Peter’s head. “Let’s hope this works,” she said, and the six of them donned their noise cancellation headphones; Derek having already placed a pair on Peter. “Here goes nothing.”

Lydia inhaled, and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it seems Lydia has been keeping a few things to herself.


	12. Walking On The Wild Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia tries to enter Stiles’ dream just as Stiles and Peter realise that something’s not quite right about their “vacation time”. The Coven tries to get Gideon back on his feet, some of the packs and Round Table members keep watch over Peter, while others go to create a distraction in Beacon Valley. But the shit is about the hit the fan, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Lydia, yeah, amazing that I started out not liking her in TW and now can’t seem to leave her out of anything I write. And in case you haven’t read my fic “Running . . .”, I really like playing with what her screams can do.

_This has to work_ , was Lydia’s frantic last thought before she inhaled and screamed, allowing the sound to soothe her like very little else did.

She screamed until she had no breath left and blacked out. It was the last step to clearing her mind. She’d already digested the concoction from the plants the Elementals and the Queen had been able to source and mix into a magical drink at short notice, and around her wrist was a simple leather band next to her charmed red beaded bracelet, her link to present. It was the one thing she hadn’t been in possession of last time someone had tried to force her to wake the dead. The leather bracelet she’d taken off a very surprised and embarrassed Derek at the last minute, figuring it would keep her centred and grounded enough not to get lost in whatever vision Stiles had conjured.

On the bed, her body stiffened, jerked, then shook like she was in the middle of a dangerous seizure and for the second time that evening, Derek jumped to his feet in alarm, dragging off his headphones in the process. The others did the same.

“Don’t!” The Queen cautioned, when he reached out a hand. “Don’t touch her. We don’t know what that would do.”

Derek looked torn – torn between wanting her to get to his uncle, and what this ‘journey’ could end up doing to Lydia herself. He dropped his hand, folding both hands into fists as his nails bit into the fleshy part of his palm. “Come back to me and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you what you mean to me,” he whispered, and just like that Lydia’s body went lax.

++++++

Gideon moaned. His head felt thick and there was throbbing pain all over. He pried his lips apart by sheer will, although the simple act pained and burned like hell. He eased his eyes open to see a mix of faces staring down at him, some concerned, others with fear in their eyes and others angry enough to feel the waves.

Morris, of course – _that prissy fucker_ – was the first to speak. “You’re lucky to be alive. What you did was foolish and reckless.”

“Water,” Gideon croaked, and Mannock rushed to do his Master’s bidding. After sipping slowly, Gideon eased into a sitting position. “I make my own luck,” he said, raising his chin in challenge to Morris, even with limbs shaky and limp on the mattress.

The man’s nostrils flared. “You endangered us all and that is all you have to say?” he raged, flailing in his anger as the robes swirled around his hands. “This was a foolhardy plan from the get-go. We never should have allowed you into this Coven!”

Morris was the epitome of Disney’s incarnation of a traditional evil witch, minus the female body parts or wizard. He was tall, thin, with a curling moustache that he groomed within an inch of its sorry life; long fingers with bedazzled rings on each digit, that served no purpose other than to draw attention to his hands, which were softer than those of a billionaire heiress. He walked erect and because of his considerable height and status as an elder in the coven, considered it his given right and duty to look down his patrician nose at any and everyone, including Gideon.

Gideon knew the man was just waiting until an opportunity arose to take his place. In fact, he was surprised, given the condition of his body and the fact that he had probably been out of commission for a while, that Morris hadn’t taken his life and blamed in on his battle with the Spark. Of course, had he done that, they would have no way of controlling Stiles, which was probably the only reason he was still alive.

He didn’t delude himself into thinking Mannock would have protected him. All night the little weasel had been hiding, sneaking around, listening in, while looking for a way out. Gideon pretended he hadn’t noticed. _Not yet._

“I’m fine. The coven’s fine. This is just a small . . . wrinkle of a delay.” The more he spoke, the easier speech became. In fact, the other aches in his body also started to recede as whatever remedy Alan had obviously fed him began to work.

“A small wrinkle? That boy almost killed you! And that’s in his unconscious state!”

“ ** _Enough!_** ” Gideon sat up with steel in his voice and those around him eased back. “I refuse to argue this ad nauseum with you. What’s done is done. I still have to break him before he belongs to us fully and the only way to do that is while he’s in this state. Unless of course, you’re volunteering for the task?”

Morris thin lips became thinner. _Thought not_ , and Gideon’s eyes narrowed as he smirked internally. _Wouldn’t do to gloat in front of the sheep,_ but the idiot of an elder knew he was right. No one else could do what he was doing, was going to do _._ “Good. Now, get back to your posts. We can’t afford for the spell to weaken.”

It was enough to send the minions scampering to their duty.

++++++

She was in the coven. _Blast it!_ Waveney was hoping she was wrong, but based on everything she’d felt and overheard, including the insipid chanting that had abruptly broken off about half hour ago when the witches guarding her had run off somewhere, she was definitely inside the coven. _So much for antique dealers._

She peaked though slits of her eyelids. Beyond the doors of the cell were clear, no one in sight. So she tested her restraints. She was shackled to the wall by her manacled wrists attached to a long chain imbedded in the walls. Her feet however were still free, but there was a bandage wrapped around her left thigh, which was still throbbing. She held the chains in her hands and yanked – a sharp, quick burst of strength. _Yep, just as she thought_ _– firmly attached to said wall._

Glancing around and assessing her cell, she found it sparse. The ‘mattress’ she’d been lying on was a simple slat of foam thrown onto the ground, no spring, no wires, just sponge. _They weren’t dumb after all._ Nothing that could be used as a weapon, not even a metal plate or cup to use as a missile. Blast!

She sat back down on the sponge, head still swiveling looking for anything, anything at all. _She was no damn damsel in distress. She was the law, dammit._

++++++

_ “Should we go for it?” _

_ “Until we figure out what the hell’s going on, no one is going for anything,” Peter’s lips twisted as his eyes scanned everything around them, including the telescoping hallway. _

_ “What do you think it is?” Stiles’ voice sounded small and so unlike him. _

_ “I don’t know,” Peter pulled him back inside and closed the door. “But more importantly is how are you feeling?” _

_ “Ok? I guess?” _

_ “Any pain anywhere?” _

_ “No.” Stiles shook his head, but then Peter’s head snapped up and his nostrils went wide. He sniffed the air once, then again. _

_ “What? What’s wrong?” _

_ “I smell something familiar. It’s something I know. I know I know it.” _

_ “What’s it smell like? Food?” _

_ “No . . . like family,” his eyes met his lover’s. “Like Derek.” Peter threw open the door again, and there standing in the middle of that long ass corridor was Lydia Martin. _

++++++

“Stiles . . .” the whispered words from Lydia’s lips released a tension in the room that the occupants in the Stilinski house had not realised they were caught up in. On the bed the redhead smiled.

“She’s found them,” John exhaled a shaky laugh. “Oh God, she found them.”

Then there was the sound of breaking glass downstairs, and the splintering wood of a door being smashed in.

Das rushed out.

Flinging the headphones away, Derek turned to the others, eyes blue, face shifted and claws released. “Stay here. We can’t allow anyone to get to them. Anyone!” he growled around his teeth and followed Das like a man with murder on his mind.

++++++

The crew looked up at the building before them. “Mountain ash and magic barriers,” said Angus. “The former is no problem,” he looked at the human in the group, “the latter’s going to be a bit harder to bypass.”

The street they were on was mostly commercial properties, warehouses and empty real estate waiting for the next big idea. The coven had chosen well. Here after hours they could get up to all manner of wicked without anyone being the wiser, unless a neighbour decided to work late, and lately, no one on this street worked late.

“They’ve got protection spells and runes all over the place,” Angus added.

“I can smell it in the air,” Scott said. “Can you break it?” he asked the fairy. The plan was she would attempt to bring down any barriers they found, while the Elementals and humans tackled the mountain ash and the others took care of the witches, where they could. But first they had to get in.

“I can try, but it’ll take a while. The Queen is better at bringing down barriers than I am, but she also knows the stuff about dreams more than I do, but nothing beats a try,” the fairy responded as she started to float, raising her hands to begin.

“Wait,” Kira frowned. “Just wait a minute,” her eyes took on a mirthful sparkle. She ran to the far end of the building, then to the other end. She stopped and reached out a hand as the others shouted their concern, but the kitsune just smiled and brushed the barrier that covered the coven. It sparked. _Perfect._

And Kira giggled. Cracked her neck, wiggled her fingers, and giggled.

Parrish shot her a concerned look, while Tori sighed, shook her head and floated back to the ground. She and Braeden exchanged knowing glances and began to slowly back away from the supernatural Japanese fox who had a special love affair with anything that fizzled, crackled or popped.

“Peter hardly ever lets me and Stiles play anymore. He say we always end up creating messes for him to clean up.” She turned a playful, evil looking grin on her fellow hell-raisers, “I think you guy’s might want to back up a bit.”

Kira spread her hands, body width apart with palms facing each other, and brought the lightning.

++++++

By the time Derek got to the bottom of the stairs, there was smoke everywhere. No fire, just smoke. When it touched his skin he understood – _wolfsbane_. _Shit, where was Das?_ He couldn’t see the younger wolf through the mess and everywhere the smoke touch on his skin burned. It wasn’t strong enough to peel the skin or hair from his partially-shifted body, but he figured enough that too long an exposure could weaken and poison. Whoever was attacking the house probably weren’t witches, but they knew their stuff.

He heard a scream and a crunch, and knew Das was at least still standing and fighting. At least one victim disposed of. But this wolfsbane smoke would be hell to get out of the system. As he thought it the smoke began to clear. He felt a cold, brisk breeze at his back and just like that, the room began to come into view, smoke diffusing back out through the broken windows and door they’d been thrown through.

At the top of the stairs was a very pissed off Delicia.

“Thought I told you all to stay up there,” Derek growled, as he saw the sheriff with a weapon in each hand at the top of the stairs.

Delicia floated past him and he would swear the woman brushed a hand against his cheek. “Please kid, when I was old enough to drink your grandparents weren’t even born yet.” She raised an impressive eyebrow at him, “Shall we?”

Derek shook his head and launched himself at the first surprised, masked, gun-wielding attacker.

++++++

It crackled and popped and the streets lit up like the fourth of July as the kitsune concentrated her power at the magic shield. The fools had erected a barrier out of pure electricity. Maybe they’d intended to stop or electrocute wolves with that shit, and maybe an elemental would have a little trouble, but it was laughable to someone who played with sparks for fun – both the shocky kind and the supernatural Stiles-shaped kind.

Someone rushed out on a steps, a woman with long blonde hair and by the looks of her, they weren’t expecting this. Kira laughed some more and applied more power.

“She scares me sometimes,” Tori whispered, shaking her head.

“Scares you? I live with her,” Braeden said, and Tori gave her a significant side eye. _A mercenary afraid of a little fox, right!_ Braeden held a gun in one hand and slowly let out her claws on the other. Tori blew out a breath – _scary bunch they all were_.

“Guys, get ready. They’re fighting it, but it’s gonna come down if I have anything to say about it.” Kira called. “Tori, I think you need to put up a shield now. Those guys over there seem ready for to attack.”

++++++

Waveney kicked and punched and clawed and yelled in fury, but she refused to let fear take over.

They had come for her moments ago, dragging her from her cell. At first she’d held onto the shackles, but the four of them had held her and pried her fingers loose before releasing the chains from the wall. At the last minute she’d stopped struggling and it had shocked the ones who’d been shoving her so much that they stumbled off balance, and she’d used her manacled hands to punch the first one with the iron cuffs. She’d heard the crack, and didn’t have time to watch the blood spew out of his mouth as he fell to the floor before she planted a firm kick into the groin of the next one.

The woman with them had grabbed her by the hair, but it was already so short and slippery in the woman’s grasp that she could not get a firm hold. Waveney had swung the chain then, catching the woman across the upper arm as she cried out in pain and anger, before a second swing had the last of the ‘transporters’ stepping back in fear.

She made a mad dash for the doors of the cell, only to be dragged back by the very weapon that had come in so handy a moment ago. The last captor grabbed her chains and yanked and she was once again captive. She wondered why this set hadn’t used any magic on her and wondered if perhaps they were just human like she was. But she wasn’t going down without a fight. Whatever they had planned for her beyond these walls she would fight them to her last breath.

Waveney continued thrashing, as there were yells coming from beyond. Someone had raised an alarm of some kind and she could see bright flashes of light illuminating the walls of the hallway beyond. Something was happening outside that had the witches scrambling and she could feel the tension like a taunt wire around the place.

++++++

The Sheriff took up position on the stairs. They’d have to get through him to get into his son’s room where Peter and Lydia were still unconscious and where the Queen was keeping careful watch.

“I could just zap them you know,” she called from inside the room, and John found himself snorting back a laugh. _How could he laugh at a time like this? When his heart was heavy with his missing son and lover, and his second son lying on a bed unconscious in the other room?_

“I think they’ve got it handled,” the Sheriff winced, as one of the invaders grasped his throat, struggling to breathe as the Elemental just stood before him and watched the life being sucked from his body. _Well he guessed he now knew how Hal Franklyn had died._

With a final flash of his hand, Derek severed the last throat, blood flying across the room to land against the nearby cabinet. _Damn, that was going to be hell to clean up._ Then all was quiet, except for Derek’s and Das’ ragged breathing. There were at least a dozen bodies scattered throughout the room. The only reason there probably were no sirens rending the night air was the dampening spell around the house – erected by the fairies.

“Actually, there may be something you can do. Know how to dispel wolfsbane from wolves?” John called back.

“It’s ok John, I’ve got this,” the Elemental said and walked up to Derek. “Ready?” When he nodded she inhaled and Derek started to cough. John watched in fascination bordering on horror as he could literally see the particles leaving the wolf and flying over to the woman.

Derek collapsed to his knees still coughing, as the last of the poison left his body. Delicia laid a hand on his back and patted. “You’ll be just fine pup.” Looking to Das, she smiled, “Your turn.”

++++++

Parrish wasn’t sure if he should be extremely scared or incredibly turned on by the power being shown by Kira. To look at one would imagine she was a smart, but very young and naïve girl. When she opened her mouth or raised her power though, everything in him clenched in response. “This is amazing,” he said.

“It is,” Karl droned before he opened his mouth and licked his long incisors, “but I find I’m more than a little hungry. Do hurry up.”

Kira blushed, but rolled her eyes at the vampire as she felt the barrier falling. But the witches were strong. “Tori?”

The fairy came forward and rest a hand against her back. It push a little more energy into her lightning and she swore she heard the witch at the door scream ferociously, and she couldn’t help but laugh. _Welcome to the new millennium honey. Your witchy powers are no match for me._ Kira felt delight as adrenaline rushed into her blood.

++++++

_ “ **Lydia!?** ” the shock in Stiles’ voice was clear. _

_ “Oh thank God!” Lydia started running and didn’t stop until she’d rushed into Stiles’ arms, touching him, feeling the solidness that was him, holding him tight. Then to Peter’s surprise, the banshee turned and embraced him as well. _

_ “Why do you smell like my nephew?” he asked, and Lydia’s eyes went wide and then pleased. _

_ “You can smell that? Oh wow, ok, ok. I think, wow, I think this is what you’re smelling,” she held up her hand to show the bracelet with the Hale crest on it, grinning. _

_ “Lydia, what are you doing here? And where is here? Where the hell are we?” _

_ “Oh, right.” Her face went serious. “You’re dreaming Stiles and we need you to try to wake up. You went to the Coven to confront Gideon and never came back, then Peter . . .” she glanced at the wolf briefly, “Peter went a little crazy and tried to attack Victoria to get to you. She knocked him out and he hasn’t awoken since.” _

_ “What the fuck?” _

_ “So this is all a dream?” It made more sense to Peter than anything else had. _

_ “Yes. The Queen called it dreamscaping, but we think Gideon knows Peter’s here and if he hurts any of us here, Stiles . . .” she stopped. _

_ “If he hurts us here, he hurts us for real,” Stiles summised. “Irena’s in Beacon Hills?” Stiles and Peter exchanged a silent look. _

_ Lydia nodded. “And we think Gideon’s tried already to hurt you both. Peter’s been restless in the dream. We thought the last time that you were . . . We thought you’d died Stiles.” _

_ “That explains your pain. If he’s trying to harm me, because let’s face it you’re what he really wants, but if he’s trying to hurt me . . . If your Spark created this, then it’s still there and still working, maybe trying to fight him.” _

_ “Which means that it’s protecting us, it’s been protecting us.” _

_ “Hence your pains. The headaches, loss of memory. I think maybe it’s been trying to wake you up but whatever he did to you is fighting it.” _

_ Stiles’ face stilled. _

**_ Shit _ ** _ , Peter knew this look. It signalled nothing good and always resulted in Peter covered in someone else’s blood. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heck of a lot has happened in this chapter though it’s short. I will probably post 13, if I can finish it before the end of the week, and Chapters 14 and 15 between Sunday and Friday next week. I’ll be travelling that weekend, so want to conclude the story before I do. Hope you enjoyed 12. Feel free to leave me some inspiration if you want.


	13. A Good and Bloody Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Gideon Pierce thought he had a fight on his hands before, then neither he nor his Coven knew what a real fight was. They’re about to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed my Sunday update; yes I know I missed Sunday. I’ve been swamped with work and a side project and preparing to travel in a few days so I got absolutely no writing done beyond chapter 12. But looky – a new chapter. Yeah (dances a little). I’m trying to finish 14 and 15 this week so I can update before Friday. Wish me luck, but here have some blood and action. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> WARNING - Bloody violence ahead!

_ “You ran off to find him. Without a word to me or anyone else, just gone. I mean, really, Stiles!” Peter’s eyes glowed. _

_ “I said I was sorry. I think the most important thing now is for us to find a way out of here before that crazy man tracks us down.” _

_ “Oh so he’s crazy now, but he wasn’t when you voluntarily left the safety of home and went to him?” Peter growled. _

_ “I didn’t think he’d get a fast one over on me, and let’s face it, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly,” Stiles returned, his own anger rising. _

_ “Well why not talk to John or me? Before running off half-cocked?” _

_ “What part of not thinking clearly aren’t you getting? I . . .” _

_ “Boys!” Lydia’s yell echoed. Plus, it was probably a bad idea to have a shouting match with a banshee, so they both shut up. “We don’t have time for this? Stiles can you tap into your Spark or whatever it is you do and get us all out of here? The others are probably at the Coven already trying to find a way to free your body and the Sheriff.” _

_ Stiles’ heart skipped. “My dad? What’s he done to my dad?” Without consciously realising Stiles had reached out for Peter’s hand, which the other gave easily. It was like their minute squabble moments before hadn’t even taken place. That was the beauty of their relationship, they argued as hard as they loved. _

_ “Nothing, your dad’s safe. Not that Sheriff, the other one. He took Sheriff Coulthrust. She’s been missing since last evening, and you’ve been gone for almost a day now, Stiles.” _

_ “Shit,” Stiles digested all this information, wondering how they could have been ‘lounging in paradise’ when so much was going on elsewhere. He turned startled eyes to Peter. “My dad can’t lose her. I don’t know what’ll happen if he loses her like this.” _

_ “Well babe you know what you have to do. Just try not to get dead till I get there?” _

_ “Easier said than done. I can’t really feel my Spark in here. It’s like it’s there but not. Whatever spell he’s been using seems to have dulled my response to it or it to me.” _

_ “Babe, you do realise you are the Spark, right?” Stiles frowned, and Peter sighed, a long put-upon sound that Stiles would take significant time to scold him about, but later. “Stiles, you keep speaking like you and your Spark are two separate things and you’ve never been. From the time I met you and you were learning to use it, it was an extension of who you are, not something separate and apart from it. I think that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time getting things to go the way we want them too . . . And before you start getting pissed at me, this is not an attempt to blame you for anything that’s happened so far, so get that look off your face, we don’t have time for it.” _

_ “Asshole,” Stiles muttered, giving Peter a dirty eye. _

_ “I love you too,” the Alpha smirked at him before his face went serious again. “Remember the night dad got injured, when the wind came out of nowhere and tried to crash us? . . .”  _

_ Lydia cleared her throat, interrupting just then, and they both looked at her, “Yeah, um, about that? I think that might have been Angus. He’s one of the Elementals Peter met before he, you know,” she twirled a finger at her temple and Peter rolled his eyes. _

_ “I did not go insane, Lydia. I merely lost touch with my mate,” he turned to hold Stiles’ gaze, “my anchor. But when the vehicle swung out of control that night, and again when you went to see Gideon, I think both times you were thinking of the Spark as something you had to put into motion somehow, had to get to respond to you.” He turned and took Stiles’ face in his hands. “What I want you to get, my love, is that you are the Spark. You’ve always been the Spark. It’s a part of who you are at the very core. Think and you make things happen, the universe responds, not because you have to tap into some kind of power. You are the power.” Peter pressed lips against Stiles’, and like a flower the Spark, both man and power together finally, opened to him. _

_ Lydia swallowed and shivered, despite the warmth emanating like something “other” between the two who were locked together in a sensual embrace. She didn’t know where one ended and the other begin but the flow of sudden power in the air was like plunging into a thick warm bath of chocolate and watching as it covered you entirely. _

_ She suddenly never wanted to be on the bad side of this particular duo and pitied those who did for what was about to unfold. _

++++++

The crowd on the steps before them was starting to swell. They could count as many as eight witches now, standing before them chanting, while some drew runes in the air to reinforce the barrier around the building.

But it was the clear “bringggggg” of a cell phone that had the team in the street all raising an eyebrow. The witches were battering away at Tori’s shields, while others fought with Kira trying to maintain the barrier that they’d erected around the coven to keep the supernaturals out. Now apparently they were shooting spells at the motley crew gathered outside, hoping to kill or at least delay their entry to the building.

Braeden tapped her cell to answer the call like she was merely spending the evening in a spa. “Hello?”

“Brae? Thank God, we didn’t know what was happening. We can’t get Peter or Stiles, we can barely feel Stiles anymore and no one is answering their phones and Phillip is freaking the fuck out,” Mara’s voice was high pitched and all the wolves around were cringing and shooting glares in Braeden’s direction.

“Volume honey, control the decibels for me? Look everything is going to be ok. We are going to get Stiles now and rescue Peter too.”

“Shit, did they get arrested again? What did Stiles do this time? I thought Stiles’ dad was the Sheriff down there, doesn’t he have any pull? How much of a mess was it that they’d still be in prison?”

“Not prison sweetie, just . . . something else.”

“Ok,” Mara said carefully. “How much should I be worrying right now?”

“Look, we just ran into a few witches, but we’re taking care of it. You know me honey, there’s no way I’d stand around and allow any harm to befall our boys.”

“But you’re having trouble with witches.”

“Well, you know we’re generally known as a bad ass pack, but it seems a few this side of the Atlantic didn’t get the memo.”

“Braeden, you might want to bring your attention back to here and now. You can call your pack back later,” Scott scolded, eyes blazing though they did not move from vigil over the witches gathering on the coven’s stoop.

“Ok, Mara, I have to go. We need to go update their information to let them know just who they fucked with. I’ll call you after. Smooches.” Braeden hung up and Tori shook her head again.

 _Yup, Peter’s pack was filled with scary motherfuckers, all of them._ Braeden had addressed the issue of her comatose Alpha and missing Emissary like it was just another day in the hood, but Tori didn’t know why after knowing them these past years that she expected anything different. It took a lot to rattle Peter and Stiles, and Braeden and Kira were cut from the same cloth.

“How soon, princess,” Braeden asked Kira.

“In 5, 4, 3 . . .”

++++++

Waveney struggled some more, but suddenly Gideon Pierce was standing before her, nothing but scorn written on his face. He opened his mouth to say something to her when someone ran up to his side and whispered in his ear. It was like watching a beast come out of hiding the way his face transformed in that instant.

The eyes that turned to her almost made her stomach transform to a puddle of jello, such was the hatred that hazed over his eyes, as she watched something build up in the man. Then he was yelling, like something deranged and mad as hell.

It was the last thing she remembered before the darkness came.

++++++

“How many?” John asked, still posted at the top of the stairs.

“11,” Derek replied, as he dragged yet another body across the floor, piling them all together in one place.

 _That fucking stain was going to be hell to get out_ , was John’s only thought beyond the fact that the home of the Sheriff of Beacon Hills had just become a crime scene.

“Something’s happening,” Irena said sharply, and they all rushed back into the room where Peter and Lydia were still in the bed, joined by the hands. “I can feel something happening.” Irena’s eyes went wide, “Jesus!”

“What? What’s wrong?” John tried not to let his voice shake because if something was happening to Peter and Lydia, then it was also happening to Stiles wherever he was.

Irena looked up and her skin started to tint green, changing into her base fairy form, eyes going a brilliant blue.

“Oh . . .my . . .God!” Delicia exclaimed as she too started to glow, a brilliant white emanating from her hovering form, glancing down at herself like that transformation too was beyond her doing.

“What the hell is going on?” John yelled, unable to contain his absolute fear now.

“It’s Stiles,” Das said grinning, laugh of pure joy bursting forth, a tear forming in his eye. He let his beta form take over. “I can feel him, and **_holy fucking hell!_** ”

++++++

Braeden and Kira jerked and the kitsune felt her power swell, and glanced nervously at her fellow fox. It was clear that Braeden felt the same, as her face started to turn – the hair of her more foxy nature spreading across her face like sideburns.

Then the unbelievable started to happen.

“Ahhhh!” Parrish screamed and dropped to his knees. He opened wide, scared eyes, and arched, screaming again, his chest out before him, back arched dangerously. Out to his sides, his hands started to thicken, hands turning into massive paws.

“What the hell,” Scott said stepping back, red blazing from his eyes as he too began to take on his Alpha form. For the first time since they took up position outside the coven, Scott felt a calm start to engulf his entire being.

“Do you feel that?” Angus whispered, glancing at his hands, which were likewise glowing.

Parrish fell forward on hands that were no longer hands, breathing harshly and audibly like he was in immense pain as his limbs continued to transform and expand. When he turned his head and looked at the others, it was clear that he was developing the jowls of a hound.

“What’s happening to him?”

“He’s becoming what he is, kid,” Karl said, attempting to project a bored countenance that he no longer felt. He swallowed thickly as he watched what was happening before their very eyes. “I knew he was something, but damn.”

Lydia had known, Scott knew she’d known after he’d commented the Parrish smelled funny. She’d given Scott that disappointed look that she’d perfected that halted any further comments about Parrish or the fact that the supposed human clearly had no clue about his lineage. Now he wondered if it had been wise to ignore it this long.

The beast beside them blew out an angry breath that sounded more like an annoyed stallion than a mammal from the canine family. The beast shook its head and turned burning yellow eyes on them.

“ ** _Oh, shit!_** ” Braeden and Kira said at the same time.

Parrish was no longer human.

++++++

Stiles felt like his mind was expanding. Like suddenly he was waking up from a long restful sleep.

His brow furrowed and he shook his head as if to shake off some annoying bug.

His mind touched Peter’s and he frowned again. There was something wrong with his mate.

He reached out to soothe.

++++++

Lydia gasped, and her eyes blinked open. In seconds Derek was rounding the bed and dragging her into his arms, scenting her and murmuring intelligibly.

“Easy big guy. Easy,” she croaked. “Water.”

The Queen stretched out a glass that suddenly appeared from thin air towards Derek. He fed her the blessed, cool liquid slowly, eyes darting to his uncle, waiting for Peter to awaken.

++++++

The moment the barrier dropped the hound rushed forward. Whatever it was the witches were throwing at them seem to rebound off the animal as the others remained frozen for a beat of about five seconds.

The first scream seemed to shake everyone from their stupor, and as one they surged forward to battle – the second line of attack.

Karl patted Kira on the back and smiled, “Superb job, my lady,” before he took to the air and the throat of the nearest witch. _It was feeding time._

Kira grimaced at the sight as she threw a bolt of lightning at another witch, who countered with her wand – _an actual fucking wand_.

“Head count?” Braeden said as Tori threw a shield in front of her allowing her to hack through one of the witches standing in her way.

Kira laughed as she finally blasted the annoying woman and burnt the wand to a crisp – _just because_ , “Yeah, head count,” she responded, throwing a challenging glance at her pack mate.

Tori sighed. The competition for most kills was on. It was going to be a bloody night.

++++++

Lydia sat up as the liquid, which she guessed was infused with something other than water, worked its magic on her system. She went from feeling sore, wrung out, to fully awake. She turned in the bed to look at Peter who’d not yet moved.

“Come on, Stiles. Come on!” she chanted quietly, and could all but hear the others also adding their silent wishes that Stiles would speed up the process.

++++++

Stiles smiled as he felt the brush of Peter’s lips on his. He was repairing the damage done to his love, the centre of his life, to the bond they shared. A warmth surged through him as the bond reconnected, and his smile turned into a grin.

He heard clearly in his mind, “Hang on, my love. I’m coming.”

++++++

Peter came to with a roar that had everyone backing away. They immediately clasped hands over their ears, before he seemed to come to his senses. He looked around at everyone, red eyes touching and confirming that everyone was alive and well. He sniffed the air and smelled wolfsbane and blood, glanced at his nephew who nodded to him – acknowledgement that all was as well as it could be.

He turned eyes on Lydia, who’d probably saved them both and he would take time to thank her later, but now he had to get to Stiles and that bastard who called himself the Master of the Fathers of Pagan Hearts. “We have to go,” Peter said, sliding from the sheets, resting one foot at a time against the smooth floor.

A near whine of pain came from John and Peter turned to him, as the Sheriff said, “I can’t go with you. I’d just hold you back, but bring my son home to me.”

“We can’t leave you here, John,” Derek replied. “If they send reinforcements here armed to the teeth like the last set, then you’re too vulnerable alone.”

Peter circled to the foot of the bed where John stood and pulled the man into a hug. “Stiles says he’s sorry.”

A tear ran down John’s face. “I know. Me too. I should have told him, so many things.” Before the tear could drip from his chin a cool feeling enveloped John. His cheeks went red as he felt his bruised ribs start to heal, felt his aches and pains start to recede, felt himself being made whole.

When Peter let go, he squeezed John’s shoulder. “Ready now?”

John’s eyes were blown wide, mouth open, just like Das, Derek and Lydia, the latter whose shock soon turned into a warm gaze. “A gift from your son,” Peter explained, though he didn’t have to; they all knew.

Das swallowed and felt his chest swell with pride. His Alpha briefly scented him before he looked to the Queen and inclined his head in respect and a signal they were ready. Irena transported them all to Beacon Valley – battle central.

++++++

Gideon rushed into the room where Stiles still lay on the bed. He was almost in a panic now, as was the rest of the coven. He could hear the screams and yells and battle from out front. It sounded like a war had begun and judging by the sounds, maybe the witches were losing.

He really didn’t care. About any of them. All he cared about was the boy . . . no the man, in front of him. His son. His oh-so-powerful son, whose strength was expanding at a terrifying rate even now. His son whom he could feel tugging and tugging at the bonds that held his mind and his limbs in stasis.

He needed more power to hold him. He needed to drain the damn cop now to perform the ritual, but first he’d suck what life was left from that damn elemental’s wife now, it might be enough til he could paint the room in Sheriff Coulthrust’s blood.

The Round Table would feel his power now.

++++++

Angus inhaled and felt a lancing pain through his chest. He knew it was Ariel, and the knowledge of that pain was enough to bring tears to his eyes. They might not reach the witch in time to save his Ariel. He could feel her life force leaching from her slowly but surely. She was fighting that was for sure.

Just then a wind picked up at his back and the witch he’d be strangling flew out of his way, crashing into the surface of the building, just over the Coven’s emblem before smacking to the ground with a crunch. He turned and was enveloped in Delicia’s hug. “I can feel her too. I’m sorry, my friend.” She wiped the tear from his eye.

“If we’re going to do this we do it for her as well,” Angus said.

“I think you should be with your wife now, Angus. There’s no shame in wanting to be by her side even at a time such as this.” Irena said stepping up beside the two and flinging a witch away with a thought conveyed to a nearby tree, which in response stretched forth its limbs, captured said deviant and launched her skyward, without any of the supernaturals even batting an eyelid.

Angus looked between the two torn, and Delicia made the decision for him. “Go! We’ve got this covered and with the Spark waking up, we’ll take care of this. Go to your wife.” Before he could open his mouth to argue, he vanished. Delicia turned to the fairy Queen, “Thank you, he’d have argued until he couldn’t if you hadn’t done that.”

Irena nodded and the two continued up the steps, now flowing with blood. She brushed a hand over the head of the hound that stood there, a gesture that was both soothing to his confusion, and a welcome to the supernatural community in general. Parrish responded with a growl of acknowledgement and led the two women into the belly of the coven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not a very long chapter, but the culmination of the battle is coming. I’ll try to post the last two chapters in the next two day. Thoughts are welcomed.


	14. I Was Looking Forward To A Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles struggles to wake; Peter loses his mind – again, as things go really awry for the rescue efforts; and Gideon finds a reason to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter should hopefully be posted tomorrow night (my time) or early Friday morning before I go off to work. I’ve started it, but will complete it sometime tonight (fingers crossed because real life has been kicking my ass lately.) It’s gonna be more of an epilogue and wrap-up to everything that has gone wrong in this verse.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one, and thanks guys, really, for the awesomest of comments.
> 
> WARNING - EXTREME VIOLENCE AHEAD!

Irena’s hand remained on the hell hound’s head as they strolled into the Coven’s depths; Delicia barely brushing the ground with her wispy gown, looking for all the world like they weren’t stepping over bodies and that the path wasn’t painted in blood.

“Ha ha! 21!” A voice that sounded all too delighted for the dire situation and carnage yelled. Irena was sure it was the young kitsune whose voice had echoed from further down the corridor.

“20, 21!” Came the equally fierce reply of Braeden. Then she realised what the two were doing. She could swear Peter had previously warned them against playing this game ever again. Obviously the warning wasn’t taken to heart and who could blame the two. When the Hale pack was backed into any kind of a corner, the response was swift and often brutal, and left no doubt in the mind of which ever idiot had decided to challenge them that they were a growing force to reckon with. Obvious Beacon Valley hadn’t gotten the message.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Kira cried and the Queen had had enough. With a voice she knew would travel, she reprimanded, “Ladies?!” and the two, still out of sight, immediately fell silent, with the exception of the continuing sounds of fighting.

At the outset it sounded like a torture chamber, nothing but screams and flashes of light. There’d been more witches present than they’d thought, and Irena wondered if other branches of the Fathers of Pagan Hearts, or other covens had gathered here this night.

Off to the right was a room whose door had been smashed in, probably by the Alpha that was facing off against the witch inside, and there were snarls and the crack of a whip. The witch had manifested a whip and was currently using it to keep Scott and Isaac back, as they and Allison tried their best to avoid contact with the sharpened blades at the edges of the switch the man was twirling expertly. It didn’t give Allison a chance to notch an arrow like she wanted to. Three-on-one seemed like fair odds in the circumstances. Derek darted into another room, seeming to scent out the witch hiding there.

Considering they had things under control, Parrish, Delicia and the Queen, followed Peter deeper into the building. Das had disappeared down the same darkened hallways moments before, no doubt to join fellow packmates in whatever battle they were engaged.

The place hadn’t looked this big from the street. No doubt magic was at play here as well.

The hallway opened up into a cavernous room with several corridors branching out from it and it was here that they found Das, Tori, Braeden and Kira in battle with powerful older witches, both male and female. Tori breathed a sigh of relief at the presence of her Queen, whose voice she’d only heard echoing down the corridor moments before to her two blood thirsty colleagues. Magic against magic was only fair, and the Queen set to work as Peter shifted into his true Alpha form and bolted down another dark tributary and disappeared from view.

A scream echoed from it moments later, with a voice shouting, “Wait, please!” from the intended victim.

++++++

 _He knew it._ From the very beginning Mannock had just known his death was going to come between the jaws of that Alpha. From the moment he’d opened the doors of the Coven and seen the young Spark with his mate and looked into the eyes of the wolf and seen the protectiveness reflected when the two looked at each other, he’d known this mission could get him killed.

He cowered in the face of red eyes and the jaws that promised pain before death.

He’d known too that the Alpha would come for his mate, especially with how the Spark been taken and then held against his will, just like Gideon had done to the man’s mother before him. Only this time there was blood to follow the arrogance of this kidnapping, and that’s exactly what it was. They’d kidnapped an Alpha’s mate, and not just any Alpha either, the one that had been aptly called The Destroyer.

“Please wait!” he tried again trying to get through to the enraged wolf, as the first fearful tear dribbled from his eye, scrambling backward on his butt and trying to become one with the wall.

“Peter!” a voice sounded behind the massive wolf. And then the Sheriff, the other one, the boy’s adopted father was there shouting and managing to get the wolf’s attention as he was about to rip into a trembling, terrified Mannock. Behind him stood an equally terrifying beast, the likes of which Mannock had never seen before, and a lovely red haired beauty.

“Let’s hear what he has to say. Where’s my son and Sheriff Coulthrust?” John bellowed at him.

Mannock felt a rush of something that could only have been gratitude or adrenaline, but it felt like life to his shaking limbs – life spared, at least for now.

The Spark was likely still unconscious and moments ago Gideon had called for the police woman to be brought into the room and positioned on the altar there as well. He knew the Master witch meant to sacrifice her. He just hoped they weren’t too late, and his mind began plotting once more how he could use this to his benefit, to survive this madhouse.

“I’ll take you to them, but we have to hurry. Gideon intends to sacrifice the woman for her blood. He needed the Sheriff’s but because of her connection to you, the fact that you’ve consummated your relationship, he can use her as well. It may not have the same power, but if he succeeds then heavens only knows if anyone but the Spark will be able to stop him,” he said in a rush, hoping the wolf could hear he was telling the truth.

“Who’re you?” the Sheriff asked, his face a mask of puzzlement that apparently one of the witches would be willing to help, although he’d yet to lower the weapons in his hand.

++++++

John was not sold on believing this stranger was not leading them into a trap, but he wanted answers and he wanted them now. A dead witch could not tell them what they needed to hear. So he had stayed Peter’s hand, or rather his paw and jaws. This man could lead them to his son.

“I’m Mannock Bradley,” the shaking man said. “I’m . . . or rather I used to be Master Pierces’ apprentice. I didn’t have any hand in what’s been done, either to your son or the woman,” his voice was pleading but John was deaf to that fear now. He had his own to contend with.

“Take me to my son, and I swear to you if you even think of betraying us, there’s no hoodoo or woodoo or whatever you do that’s going to stop me putting a bullet in your brain if you try anything,” John swore, fighting down his own panic and fear.

The man pushed himself to shaky feet, eyes shifting between Peter who snarled again at him and Parrish, whom John still had to come to terms with as a hound that was as terrifyingly silent as Peter was anxious.

“Well lead on!” John urged, harried.

As they moved hastily to the room that held Stiles, Parrish looked back down the corridor and suddenly took off at a run. John was torn between the need to see what had caused the hound’s abrupt departure and getting to Stiles. His son’s welfare won out and he hoped his deputy would return safe.

++++++

Parrish burst back into the ante-room, as Kira fell, blood dripping from her nose that she used a rough, annoyed hand to rake away, wiping the redness against her jeans. At this point it really didn’t matter anyway. No amount of laundering would save these clothes.

The older witches were smart. They were trying to divide and conquer and thus far seemed to be succeeding. The fairies, who were battling magic to magic against the more experienced witches, could not afford to divide their attention, which left Das, Delicia, Braeden and Kira more vulnerable.

Morris sneered at the crew, straightening his spine and launching another spell at the foxes. One down and soon he would exterminate them both. Then he’d help Amarie with the wolf. He felt confident that they had this motley crew right where he wanted them. He didn’t need Gideon to save them after all.

He grinned in triumph, and then loss his head in the jaws of the hell hound.

++++++

The Coven had been breached and there were now less witches than before and a greater chance of being found before he was done. Gideon couldn’t have that.

He continued circling the altar, drawing runes into the wooden surface with the pointed tip of a blade. Normally such desecration of an altar was frowned upon because the surfaces were used time and again, but he couldn’t say that he was expecting the Coven to remain standing after tonight, and really he didn’t care.

If it’d been still standing when he’d completed his mission, he would have razed it to the ground anyway. So it really didn’t matter. What panicked him was the fact that moments ago his drain of the Elemental had suddenly stopped. He had been so sure once he’d drained her dry and her essence had been transferred to him he would have had enough ‘mojo’ to hold the spell over Stiles and secure the room until he completed the sacrifice. It was the woman’s connection to John Stilinski that was the key. The blood of someone whom Gideon hated most; and since Claudia was already dead and he’d never touch a hair on Stiles’ head in harm, that left only John, the man who’d once stolen the love of his life.

This wouldn’t be the first blood sacrifice to increase his power, and probably not the last. But when the witch had come and whispered that the assault on the house had been unsuccessful and they’d not taken John Stilinski, he’d known his game was in jeopardy.

He’d initially hoped to lure John having taken Coulthrust, and then he could kill Coulthrust, sacrifice the Sheriff and gain the power he needed. He’d had no doubt that Stiles would come to him voluntarily once he had his “dad”, but Stiles had kicked his timelines out the window and arrived so much sooner than planned. Gideon had been unwilling to let the coven know about his wish to sacrifice the two Sheriffs. They actually believed him when he said taking the woman would neutralise John. _Idiots!_

It still didn’t explain why suddenly his spell on the Elemental was no longer working. He should have killed her by now but he knew the spell had failed somehow and he could feel himself weakening again with the strain of holding Stiles and the barrier over the room. He had no idea where the weakling Mannock had run off to, but he knew the Alphas were in the Coven. If he was lucky they would rip the little prick to shreds.

His lack of concentration cost him. The blade he was carving with slipped and nicked the woman, so sharp was the edge, and her blood leaked out onto the table. Gideon swore vilely. Even unconscious the bitch could not serve her purpose. He dragged the kerchief from his back pocket to staunch the flow. He could not allow the break in the ritual to ruin everything.

A bead of sweat ran down his temple and he tried to steady his weakening hand as the first collision with the door echoed into the room. Someone was ramming it from the outside. Then he heard a series of bullets and turned smiling, eyes glittering crazily.

_So the Sheriff had come after all!_

He quickly shoved the woman from the altar and began making some changes to the symbols. His sacrifice was here. He grinned madly and began humming as the pounding and bullets intensified. _Maybe all wasn’t lost yet._

++++++

John felt the tug, but at first he was convinced it was his worry for Stiles beyond the apparently reinforced doors. Then the tug came again and he frowned. Peter turned his massive head and had no sooner laid eyes on him than Sheriff Stilinski disappeared.

“Oh no!” It was part moan, part startled alarm, part despair that Mannock emitted, that told the team their attack had perhaps just gone to hell with John’s capture.

++++++

“Dammit Parrish. I had him. He was mine,” Braeden muttered, as the shock and sudden loss of power with the hound’s kill gave the fairies and wolf the advantage to dispatch the others.

Their victory was short-lived though, as a roar ripped through the building shaking the very foundation.

++++++

_They’d delivered John right into the madman’s hands._

Peter was furious. His wrath knew no bounds as he roared.

The entire coven went silent at his eruption. The Queen appeared behind them and started to weave her magic on the door but it held.

From inside they heard a scream, piercing and pained, that brought chills, even muffled by the door as it was. And Peter all but lost his mind.

++++++

“Victoria! Victoria, I need you now!” Irena tried not to panic. She couldn’t breach the doors. Her magic was all but ineffective against whatever dark spell the witch was using behind it, and the strength she was drawing on was nearing depletion.

Tori came and together they tried, but still there was no progress.

Behind the door the muffled screaming had stopped and to them that boded nothing good. Irena turned fearful eyes to Peter, and solemnly shook her head. They would continue to try but unless they could get into the room . . . well, the rest did not bear thinking about.

++++++

Gideon could taste the victory. It was like ambrosia on his tongue.

When John Stilinski had appeared before him, the first thing the man had seen was the crumpled body of the Coulthrust woman on the ground and had cried out in anger rushing to her side. He obviously thought her dead, with the cut on her arm dripping blood beneath her unconscious body.

He looked up, eyes diverted to the equally unconscious state of his son on a bed nearby and water sprung to his eyes before they met with those of a man he’d thought he’d never see in this lifetime. John bellowed and rushed at Gideon who merely laughed before rendering the man unconscious.

Gideon’s heart was beating a mile a minute and his skin was pimpled with excitement. He would have his revenge, but John would be awake for every single, excruciating moment of it.

He bent and picked the man up, laying him on his altar.

++++++

Stiles heard Peter’s roar. From behind a fog it was like the call of a siren. His mate was calling to him.

He felt his fury, his fear, his utter anguish and it tore at something within him in a place where nothing else could touch.

His mind brushed that of his father and heard John’s repeated chants of “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”, mixed with feelings of fear, desperation, but a smidgen of hope remained. Hope that he could somehow hold his son one last time, before the end.

He felt the cold darkness of the room. Not cold in temperature, but cold in intent. There was such darkness here and such evil that it roused him further and he decided he’d had enough of this “sleep”.

Stiles eyes blinked opened.

+++++++

Braeden, Kira and Das rushed toward the door where the others were gathered after dispatching the last few witches. Karl followed moments later, but the two women could feel the sheer torment, the suffering of their Alpha and both wanted to whimper.

Peter prowled in front closed doors, snarling, whimpering and throwing himself time and again against the heavy, solid and impenetrable barrier that separated him from his mate.

“He took John,” Lydia whispered, tears in her eyes, conveying what had happed to the others just arriving.

Braeden felt a chill from the roots of her hair extend down her arms, but was impotent to do anything but watch her Alpha slowly go insane with worry and despair. Kira stepped up, tired and sore, and added her lightning to the efforts, but the door remained firm.

“Come on, Stiles. Come on!” Lydia whispered, bloodless hands clasped tight in front pinched lips, as she inhaled and exhaled audibly.

They all waited.

“There has to be a key . . . something, some way in there,” Scott said, brow furrowed with sorrow. “We can’t just give up. Stiles is in there. We can’t just stand here and do nothing.”

“He’s stronger than we would have thought,” Irena said, voice soft and tortured, even as she continued to push power at the door.

“Isn’t there anyone you can call, some of your people to help?”

“What do you think we’ve been doing?” Tori said, uncharacteristically losing her patience with the young Alpha. “We’ve all but tapped out the members of our court. We’ve been drawing on their strength from the time we got out there attacking the barrier. We draw any more power and we risk losing our people. They’re all exhausted.”

“Maybe we can call on some of the others?” Delicia suggested, “Some of ours.”

“At this point I’m not sure we even have enough . . .”

The power that swelled from behind the door made her pause mid-sentence.

Peter stopped mid-prowl and Lydia’s hands fell to her side, mouth gaping as she exhaled again shakily.

They could all feel it, Stiles was awake. But standing outside now, they had no idea if that was a good or bad thing. In the minutes that had passed, no one knew if Gideon had completed his nefarious plan or if their Spark could save them all.

++++++

Stiles sat up and the first thing he saw shocked his blood cold.

His father lay unmoving on a slab with Gideon poised before him, shining blade in hand, chanting softly and ready to strike. Stiles only thought was – “No!” With mere intent he could blast the man to smithereens, leaving nothing but a pink mist, not even enough for a DNA test of identification, but his anger would not allow him to let Gideon Pierce off that easily. Instead he froze him in position.

He climbed from the bed to stand before the man that had tricked him; drugged him; near severed his bond with his mate and pack; kidnapped his father and laid him out for sacrifice; kidnapped his father’s lover and threatened and terrified her within an inch of her life; stolen the lives of so many supernaturals, using humans to help him; and had the unmitigated gall to expect Stiles would consent and participate in the ruination of so many.

For this madness, Stiles returned the man’s consciousness to him as he spoke softly. “I don’t know by what design I was bourne from the genes of a man such as you; a man so vicious and without conscience that you would ruin this world and all of us who share it, for your own petty revenge. My mother, the woman my father loved with everything he possesses, feared you, she suffered because of you, and because of that, on top of every other sin you’ve committed against me and mine, I remove you from this earth. And you will go, knowing it was I that did this. That it was my power which you will never touch or control.”

Blood trickled from Gideon’s eyes as his lips moved soundlessly – whether in plea or in curse, Stiles cared not. A dripple started from his nose, then his ears and Stiles watched silently, sending a wave of comfort beyond the doors to let his mate know all was well, and then down the line to the rest of the pack to calm their panic, before extending to the others.

There was much he would have to do to repair the damage this man had done in Beacon Hills, Beacon Valley and beyond, but that could come after, after this menace was no longer a part of the here and now.

Gideon coughed, gurgled and choked on the blood gushing up his throat from his very bowels. It was deep red and thick, but Stiles stood firm. He would see this through, and spare the others the gruesome image. This would be a warning to anyone else who would even think of harming the supernaturals of this world without just cause, be they human, witch or supernatural themselves.

When he was all but covered in blood, Stiles allowed Gideon’s legs to finally give out and the man crumpled to the ground twitching and gurgling in obvious pain. When the twitches stopped, he turned away to attend to his father, throwing open the doors and allowing the others to rush in.

John fell to his knees beside a rousing Waveney, who looked up at him with worried, confused eyes and whispered, “John?”

Peter was the first through the door, transforming to his human form to envelope his mate in his naked arms, squeezing him and scenting him in desperation. Stiles quickly manifested clothing for his lover.

“Shhhh. I’m ok. We’re ok,” Stiles whispered against Peter’s lips. Das, Kira and Braeden held back for about ten seconds before they rushed over to reassure themselves that their pack leaders were ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooohooo! Hope you blood thirsty folk are satisfied. I did warn you that my fics tend to be bloody and the title should have been warning enough. Not much gore in the final chapter, but some in-depth discussions will come down the line.


	15. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Stiles attempt to put their family back together and determine if John still has a lady love in his life, as Peter helps Stiles come to terms with his own feelings about his parents’ pasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one. I really hope silvertemper and revolution_starter enjoyed this little thank you to both of them. Also thank all of you for the reading and the patience. Thank you so much for sticking with me, the kudos, comments, bookmarks, subscriptions – all that mojo that gives me happy feelings. Awesome bunch you are, just awesome. I feel especially good about the dialogue between Peter and Stiles in this chapter. Like all warm and fuzzy about it. Enjoy!

Stiles didn’t know what to do with himself. He walked the late evening, through the Preserve of Beacon Hills, with a host of memories assailing him.

The death of Gideon Pierce/Fenris Davenport; the confrontation with the Order, led by Angelique Phelps, twin sister of Mayor Anthony Phelps and the subsequent removal of the rotten elements within the Order; and the healing of Ariel, Angus’ wife and the despair of knowing there were others who’d perished that he could do nothing for.

There was also the culmination of the case of the three dead scientists, whom it turns out were executed by the Round Table because of their role in the deaths of several supernaturals; and the confrontation with Waveney Coulthrust and the resulting argument and strain between her and his dad; and of course, Jordan Parrish, who now was under the tutelage of Queen Irena, having never known before that he was anything other than human. He’d yet to fully join a pack but Stiles had a feeling Scott would be expanding his pack soon. Stiles was happy for him but still wasn’t sure how to feel about the loss of Erica and Boyd. They’d never been very much to him.

Pacts had been made this past week, memories erased (another of Stiles’ new found talents), and plausible excuses found for the sudden absence of almost 80 people who’d lost their lives in the bowels of the Fathers of Pagan Hearts Coven, and not all of them members of that particular organisation. But other covens were quick to come forward to assist, to mend rifts and reassure that the bad apples were indeed gone.

Stiles and Peter laid down the law and would accept nothing but compliance. There was little doubt anyone wanted to challenge them about it. Peter was 200 per cent done with anyone’s bullshit, and they all knew it and dared not test it. The Destroyer was lurking just beneath the surface and more than ever highly protective of his mate.

Something snuffed at his hand and Stiles reached down to rub a hand through Peter’s fur. His mate had chosen this form so he could keep him company on this wandering journey through the Preserve, while still allowing Stiles the silence he craved.

He needed the silence now, to think, reflect and settle himself.

“I don’t know how I should feel right now,” he said after walking in the quiet, listening to the sounds of life all around them for another half hour. “Everything’s so mixed up. It’s getting easier to control the bursts, but every time I think about what I did, I can’t help the fact that I essentially killed the man who gave me life.”

Peter whined in protest.

“I know, I know. I know John’s my dad, will always be my dad but I don’t know how to close the gap, Peter. It’s like there’s this wall now between us that wasn’t there before. He doesn’t know how to talk to me and I don’t know how not to offend him. After everything with Waveney I don’t think he can take anymore hurt right now . . . but I don’t want . . . no, I can’t . . . I can’t keep this in, Peter, and I don’t know that it’s fair to me to try.”

“Then don’t,” Peter’s voice came from behind him, and Stiles suddenly realised he was no longer walking and raking fingers through Peter’s ruff. His mate was standing naked before him in human form. Stiles quickly clothed him.

_Ok, yeah. They’d have to have a conversation about these naked displays before much longer._

Stiles walked forward and planted his face into the centre of Peter’s chest. It didn’t matter they were near the same height, with Peter just a few inches taller. Stiles found that it always felt like home whenever Peter held him close. “I love the way you smell, the way you feel. Damn, I just love you,” Stiles murmured into the soft Henley T-shirt.

A chuckle sounded from Peter who enveloped him in his arms and then slipped a hand beneath his chin, tilting it upward. He planted a soft, careful kiss to Stiles’ lips and when his mate opened beneath him he pulled back. “I love you too. Always.”

After a moment’s pause in each other’s arms, Stiles asked, “You think I should fight with dad about this? Because you know that’s what it’s going to come down to.”

“Yes, if a fight’s what you need to get you both back on even footing, then a fight it is. You’ve been dancing around each other for a week now, Stiles. Ever since we came back from Beacon Valley you’ve been hesitant to do anything to offend each other and frankly it’s painful to watch. It’s not who you are, either of you, and if you don’t thrash this out then you won’t find that balance again. And I know you can’t live like that.”

Stiles sighed, turned and set off walking again. Peter caught up, taking him by the hand, palms resting warmly together. When the evening began to stretch long across the forest floor, the Spark launched a ball of light skyward to hover over their journey.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Stiles said softly.

“He’s hurting now, thinking that he’s no longer good enough, that you resent him. Having an honest to God conversation can’t be any more painful than all the things he’s thinking that you’re thinking, and you’re thinking that he’s thinking. Get it all out in the open. Talk it out and see where the chips fall. And when you’ve found that place, then rebuild to what you want.”

“What if I lose my temper and lose control? I’m still learning a lot of what I can now do and to be honest it scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

“Stiles, in all the time we’ve known each other, all the arguments we’ve had, even the ones where we didn’t speak to each other for hours, where we got really, genuinely mad, did we ever hurt each other with anything other than words?”

“But I didn’t have all this then,” he gesticulated to himself with a teasing smirk that Peter knew was more self-derision and fear of himself than genuine mirth.

“Darling, yes you did. You’ve always had this power. You might not have tapped into all of it yet, but you were still damn powerful. You’d never raise your power to someone who didn’t deserve it. I know that. I know you. Like I said, talk it out.

“Besides,” Peter said, with a smile in his voice, “when have you ever refused an offer to talk.” The wolf raised high eyebrows at him and Stiles shook his head.

He stopped, stood still and closed his eyes, then took a deep breath and let it out and Peter in turn once more wrapped him in his arms. “It will all work out, you’ll see.”

They stood there as the evening grew longer, just breathing together, settling.

“All right. Let’s go home. I’ve got a father to talk to.” And with a thought, they were in the backyard of John’s house.

++++++

“We’re going for pizza,” Peter announced to a packed house, as he came through the back, pass the kitchen. Everyone went silent then immediately began rushing to their feet. “I think there should be enough vehicles. Scott?”

The other Alpha glanced around taking stock and numbers, then nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got everyone covered.”

John got up from the chair where he’d been staring into the fireplace, watching the wood be devoured by flames and letting the conversation wash over him, but not really paying attention.

“Dad?” Stiles’ call caused his heart to stutter. “Can we talk?”

All eyes darted between the two, but Peter quickly got them all moving. He patted John on the shoulder, and with a quick peck to Stiles’ lips the house was soon empty.

++++++

John didn’t know if to sit or stand. His nervous legs made the decision for him and he sank back into the chair he’d been sitting in.

Stiles dragged a futon, the one which Lydia and Derek had been cuddling in moments before over to his dad’s view and collapsed, into silence. He didn’t know where to begin.

“You called me dad.” John said with a voice that shook.

Stiles frowned. “Shouldn’t I?”

And a sob burst forth from John, as he dropped forward, with his head hung, elbows against his thighs. Everything that he’d been holding in rushed out and once he started crying it was like he couldn’t stop. Stiles rushed up from the uncomfortable thing – how the hell did people relax in these damn things anyway, or get up for that matter? – and embraced his dad, kneeling before him.

He felt like a lump was lodged in his throat and a pressure on his chest but he just held on to his dad.

John scrambled for purchase against Stiles’ shoulders, squeezing his son into his chest as everything rushed back to him – the fear of losing the only family he had left; the fact that he might have lost the only woman he’d found the strength to love since Claudia; the fact that he’d lied to his family, both Stiles and Peter and wasn’t sure if they could get back everything they’d lost.

“I’m . . . so . . . damn sorry, Stiles. Oh God what have I done?” he continued crying.

“You loved me,” Stiles said simply. “You loved me, took care of me, fathered me . . . and you saved my mom. That’s what you did.”

When John could finally compose himself, Stiles rose and went to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and tissues. “I won’t say I’m not hurt. I won’t say that a part of me isn’t angry ‘cause I am. I think I’m more hurt that it had to take this, all this, for me to find out the truth of where I came from. But you have to know dad, it doesn’t make you any less my dad today than you were yesterday. Biology is just that, biology. It didn’t make Gideon any more important to my life. He’s the man that raped my mother and got me as a result, a reminder of the kind of man he was. You’re the one who picked up the pieces.”

“I didn’t want you to ever have to face any of that, Stiles, what that animal did to your mother. She never wanted you to know and I promised her I would take care of you.”

“But surely you can see why it mattered. Not for me to dig up the past but to prepare me for the future and threats we never even considered. That’s what I’m most angry about, that you both left me open to things I couldn’t even imagine because I wasn’t looking for them, because I didn’t know.

“This man was watching and plotting for years and none of us knew, or even suspected. If we’d known from the moment we met him, I could have nipped this in the bud. You can’t hold things like this back from me dad.”

“I did what I thought was best for my son. I can’t change anything that’s happened but I know I did my best,” he said, balling the tissue in his fist. “I made a promise and I wasn’t going to break it.”

“Surely you see why that was a problem?” Stiles said, his voice raising a little. “Surely you see my point. Secrets like that never work out for anyone in the long run. And if you respect me as a man, I had a right to know. I’m not a boy anymore, dad.”

“You’re my son!” John said with a hard voice. He would not be blamed for making the best decision he could, for honouring Claudia’s wish.

“Yes, I am. I’m yours and hers, but she’s not here anymore. She hasn’t been for a long time and I don’t expect that her perspective, driven by fear back then to hold sway now. Things have changed. I’ve changed and so have you. We can’t move forward blindly in the world we live in. It could mean the difference between life and death and I won’t have that on my conscience. I have to know where I’m going and why. I won’t apologise for wanting to know and disregarding mom’s request.

“I will not lose my family to honour a promise made in a time that’s nothing like what we are dealing with now. I won’t apologise for that,” Stiles said firm.

John looked at him and realised, probably for the first time what a strong man he’d grown into, despite everything he’d been through – or maybe because of it.

“You have your views about that and I have mine. I promise not to hold anything I think you should know from you, but I can’t betray your mother. I won’t.”

Stiles sighed and knew he would get nothing more out of his dad on this issue. They would have to find a compromise and work with it. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

“No, that’s it.” John shook his head.

“Are there relatives of his that we need to be concerned about?”

“No, there’s no one. I told you there was nothing else.”

“Good, ok . . . So what’s going on with you and Sheriff Coulthrust?”

John’s face went through a mass of emotions, the most prominent of which was pain. “I think we may be done. She won’t answer my calls, my texts and whenever I go to try to see her one of her deputies runs interference.” John shook his head in sorrow.

“You do realise you’re a Sheriff. There’s no way a deputy could stand in your way if you really want to get through him. Hell, ambush her at home if you need to, but this moping around the house has to stop. If it wouldn’t probably get me thrown in the slammer I would bring her to you, but after the last kidnapping shtick, I think I’d better play it by the book for a while.

“I’ve got a week before I absolutely have to return to my classes and resume life in Wales. So snap snap, dad!”

“Wait a minute. Who the hell’s the father here?” John frowned, mumbling beneath his breath. “Like I need my son to tell me how to court a woman.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re old and have forgotten how.”

John threw a throw cushion at his head, as Stiles pealed with laughter. He moved in to hug his dad. “I love you, you know. You will always be dad to me, nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

“Ditto, kiddo.”

++++++

Peter exited the pizza place feeling a sense of calm. Everyone but him had boxes or cartons of ice-cream, drinks and snacks in hand. His phone had buzzed moments with a text from Stiles giving the all clear, and he’d relaxed even more knowing that everything was good at home.

It was then he caught the tail-end of a conversation between Derek, Isaac and Das. The three had surprisingly become thick as thieves in recent days, and Peter had seen his nephew begin to come into his own, more comfortable in his skin than he’d been at any time since Kate.

“I mean, man, if you could see the breasts on that chick. Fairies are the hottest, hands down, and in bed . . .” And Peter raised his hand and smacked Das solidly across the back of the head, stopping whatever else was about to come out of his mouth.

“Fuck, Peter. What was that for?” Das asked, tilting his head toward his shoulder as if trying to soothe the pain while his hands were filled with boxes.

Lydia raised an elegant brow at Derek who blushed.

“Irena told me about the last episode . . . the fairies?” Peter drawled, and Das blushed and grinned sheepishly.

“It was Josh’s idea. That dude knows how to fucking party.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Well next time you go partying with half-naked fairies, I’m going to let Irena castrate both of you.”

“Ouch, boss. That’s cold.”

The others shared in the laughter, while Derek slid up beside Lydia. “Nope. Not even going to entertain you right now.” She made a shooing motion, sending him back towards the other two, though her lips twitched in laughter.

They too were finding a common ground, between Lydia’s precise nature and need for order, and Derek’s fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants attitude; between the Armani and the no-particular-brand leather. It was a work in progress.

++++++

Back at the house everyone settled down to laughs, pizza, chips, ice cream and good fun, while Peter sought out Stiles.

The Sheriff’s eyes had been red when they returned, but he was in good spirits. It was definitely a positive sign.

Stiles was standing under the stars looking up. Peter came up behind him to curl his arms around his waist, drawing him back into a warm body. “Everything good.”

“Ummhmmm.”

“Not too much yelling I hope.”

“Actually none, not really.” Stiles turned to look his mate in the eyes. “I mean, I said what I needed to, he said what he wanted to and we found a common ground. Just like you said.”

“So what’s wrong? What’s got you out here pondering the universe?”

There was a breadth of a pause. “Do you think I did enough? I mean with everything he did, everyone he hurt to get to me and to get revenge . . .”

“Babe . . . you’ve done more than anyone could have expected of you. It’s not your fault the things he did, that’s on him, not you. You saved a hell of a lot of people by removing him from their future. Heck, you saved a lot of people that he’d already hurt. Life is a circle, we live, die and others come to replace us when we go. It’s the way the universe works, and if you start thinking that you can control that circle then you’ll drive yourself crazy and drive everything out of balance.

“I love you for wanting to heal the world, but you just can’t, or rather, you shouldn’t. Concentrate on those whom you can help and rebuild your relationship with your dad, foster good relationships with the packs and supernatural bodies we’ve formed pacts with this past week. That’s a start and right now it’s all you should be thinking about,” Peter brushed a stray hair from his forehead.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. When am I never not right?”

And there was the arrogant bastard he knew and loved. Stiles smiled nevertheless. “To be honest, I’m more worried about dad’s relationship with Waveney now. She’s not taking his calls or anything, which has him going a little stir crazy. But I reminded him that he’s Sheriff.” Stiles wound his arms around Peter’s neck. “I mean, if as Sheriff he can’t get by a bunch of deputies running interference then it’s time to hand in his badge,” Stiles laughed.

“That may not be a bad idea.”

Stiles’ laugh quickly turned into a frown. “It was a joke, Peter. The ha ha kind?! What’s wrong with you?” Stiles punched him lightly in the chest.

“That’s not what I meant. All I meant was . . . well, what do you think about dad running for Mayor?” Stiles’ eyes opened wide. He’d noticed Peter referring to John as dad increasingly more frequently lately. He liked it. Before the thought could warm him more, Peter pressed on. “People trust him and after everything that’s happened, the supernatural community now knows they can count on John too. I think we need someone like your dad in the know. Someone who can keep the Order in check, handle the humans with dignity and respect, and maintain the peace that the two districts enjoy; create a bridge rather than a division.”

“Wow. I . . . wow.” Stiles was at a loss for words. “You’ve really given this some thought. I think, maybe  . . . maybe give him a bit to settle the Waveney thing before we spring it on him. In the meantime though, we can put some feelers out and see if anyone is being tipped for the post.”

“And put the screws in them?” Peter wiggled his eyebrows.

Stiles sighed and gave him a droll look. “NO! So we can see what his competition would look like. Again I ask, what’s wrong with you? Haven’t you had enough excitement these past weeks?”

Peter laughed. A throaty, full-bodied peal that warmed Stiles inside and out. “Let’s go eat pizza.”

Stiles smacked a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, I like that idea. . . Oh, by the way babe, I think we need to have the talk with Kira and Braeden again. Irena said they were doing head counts at the coven.”

Peter’s shoulders dropped and he closed his eyes and sighed. “ _Shit!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap. Til next time, catch you on the flip side!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few chapters planned out but no idea how many in total yet. But I don’t like long drawn out fics so not going to write one. If you’re familiar with my work, you know I seldom do fics without some kinda bloodshed/violence (I mean come on, the title should be warning enough). Here’s hoping I do this fic justice.


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